Et Dona Ferentes
by hidingfromsomeone
Summary: Or, Don't Look A Gift House in the Mouth. In the days, weeks and months following the final battle, can two men set aside their differences in order to guarantee the safety and survival of an innocent child? NC-17 HPDM
1. The Past Before The Storm

_There is a prequel to this story; it is called _The Aftermath Before The After_ and I would suggest, if you can stomach a bit of het (it's a Ron/ Hermione story) you give it a try! It may help with a bit of context, but I should hope that if you don't want to read it that this will still make sense.  
I feel like it is my responsibility to tell you at the outset a little bit of what to expect when reading this story. It is not going to be a happy, fluffy romance, I'm afraid! I feel like these boys are both in quite a dark place in their lives and coping with it in their own ways. There is going to be dark themes and angst along the way. There will be romance and intimacy, but maybe not in the way you would expect! This is, of course, a new venture for me. As always- expect the unexpected...  
Many thanks to a wonderful girl called Kira who has read this for me and put her finger right on the exact spot of what was missing, and therefore injecting the soul back into the story.  
__Thank you so much for reading! - HFS xx_

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Chapter 1- The Past Before The Storm

There was a spider crawling across the wide expanse of white ceiling that made Harry recall the tiny, cramped cupboard of his childhood. He looked like a black inkspot as he made his way determinedly across the room to a corner to settle in.

Harry sighed heavily, fluttering his fringe out of his eyes. It was two o' clock on a Tuesday afternoon. He had nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one to see. Well, Harry supposed, that wasn't quite true. There were people who he could see, if he had the inclination to do so, but the crux of the matter was he didn't actually _want_ to see anyone. He'd been given his wish and was being well and truly left alone. It was indisputably lonely.

He huffed again and the spider waved a leg at him, in greeting or reprimand, he wasn't sure. In his peripheral vision a familiar, golden ball fluttered reassuringly, just out of his reach. The golden snitch that Dumbledore had returned to him stayed close these days. It was a friendly presence that reassured Harry that despite everything, things were going to be okay.

From the bowels of the house, a clock chimed. Harry checked his watch. Half of the damn clocks in this place weren't telling the right time these days. He had a wayward thought about summoning Kreacher back from Hogwarts; he could do with the extra help with the housework and decorating, but the thought of there being a house elf around made him feel sort of sick. Plus, Kreacher was undoubtedly better off where he was. Any move to bring him back would be a selfish one on his part.

He could start cleaning the next room if he really wanted something to do. He'd been back at Grimmauld Place for about three weeks, although the concept of time was flexible, running away like water through his fingers or sticking there like treacle. With the help of his friends he'd made a total of three rooms habitable; his bedroom, one of the bathrooms and the living room. When it came to the kitchen, Harry decided that he liked the scarred wooden table and chipped work surfaces, it gave the place a familiar, homey feel. So nothing had been done there except to add a permanent cooling charm on one of the pantries to serve as a refrigerator.

It was an unfortunate situation where there was just so much to do, Harry didn't have a clue where to go next, or where to even start with the renovations of the house. The ground floor hadn't been touched. Nor had the attic. The 'spring clean' that Molly Weasley had lead four summers before had gone some way towards ridding the house of dark artefacts, unfortunately, in all the time Harry had been absent, the dust had crept back in.

He really did need a house elf, Harry thought and sighed again.

"Harry?" a female voice called from the floor below.

He scrambled off the bed, shamefaced at the fact that at half past two on a Tuesday afternoon he was wearing only a black t shirt and boxers. Then again, there were only two females that the Floo would allow to pass into his house and that was Hermione and Molly. The thought depressed him further.

"Up here," he yelled as he hopped on one leg, trying to drag on a pair of jeans.

Hermione flung open his bedroom door, looking frazzled.

"You need to come," she said, out of breath. "Right now."

"Why? Where? Who is it?"

"Mrs Tonks," she said, collapsing down on to the end of his bed and holding the stitch in her side. "She's been cursed. St Mungo's. Need to go to the Ministry _now…_ Teddy…"

Something swooped low in Harry's stomach. Something very unpleasant.

"But… oh shit. When did it happen?"

"Yesterday!" Hermione wailed. "I only just heard! Well, Ron heard someone talking in the Auror office and he told me straight away, I've been running around between the hospital and the Ministry trying to figure out what's going on, and there's a hearing now, Harry! We have to go!"

"Okay, okay," Harry said, pulling an Oxford shirt on over the top of his t- shirt and fumbling to make sure he had everything. "Let's go, you can update me on the way."

From the lazy listlessness of his afternoon to this frantic panic that hurt his heart, Harry knew which one he preferred. It was almost welcome, this frenetic energy that made him think on his feet and rely on his instincts. He'd lived with this sense of unease for years. He knew how to deal with it.

They Flooed straight to the Ministry and Hermione dragged him through the familiar Atrium to the lifts, babbling about custody claims and petitions and procedures. He grabbed Hermione by the shoulders and shook her slightly as they descended to the courtrooms.

"Hermione. You're about to throw me to the lions. What the hell am I walking in to?"

She took a deep breath. "A hearing."

"A hearing. Excellent. A hearing for what?"

"The custody of Teddy Lupin."

"Right. And I'm here… why?"

"Because if you don't take him there's no one else! You're family! Otherwise he'll be thrown into the foster system and who knows how long it would take for us to try and get him back."

Harry felt sick again. "You're sure that there's not anyone else?"

"No, Harry," Hermione said, reaching up to cup his cheek in her hand. "You're his godfather. He doesn't have anyone else."

"Just like me," Harry said hollowly.

"Just like you," she echoed.

Harry took a deep breath, steeling himself and took her hand. "Are you coming in?"

"I can watch from the public area, but I can't come in with you."

"Okay. See you in a bit."

Harry wondered whether he loved or hated his friend as he grasped the door and pushed it open. There were three people sat at a slightly raised desk, then two smaller desks set in front of them and a public area to the rear. At the furthest desk from the door sat a tall blonde man Harry didn't know. The people behind the taller desk were clearly Ministry officials; one was wearing dark burgundy robes, another in the pale blue that signified the position of Nurse at St Mungo's. The only man at the desk wore a dark, imposing Muggle suit; he wore a thick moustache that reminded Harry of Uncle Vernon, although this man was olive skinned, tall and thin. He twirled a wand between his fingers musingly.

"Mr Potter," the witch in the burgundy robes said in surprise. "Please, come in."

"Thanks," Harry mumbled. He took a seat at the empty desk and glanced across at the blonde man who had a file of papers in front of him. Harry looked back at where Hermione was the only person watching the proceedings, she shrugged in confusion, clearly not knowing what he was doing there either.

Turning his attention back to the room Harry noticed with a start that the blonde man was, against all odds, Draco Malfoy. Harry swallowed thickly, but his alarm was justified. Malfoy looked like a different man to his schoolboy enemy, and a different man again to the scared teenager who had refused to out Harry to the Death Eaters back at Malfoy Manor. His hair, rather than being slicked back like Harry had only ever seen it, was now loose and cut in a fashionable crop which completely changed the look of his face. He had retained, however, the cool, arrogant demeanour that Harry was used to seeing; the upturned nose and hard gaze of disdain as the two men caught each other's eyes.

Harry was shocked as he took in Malfoy's attire. All the way through their school years and after, Harry had only ever seen him wearing the height of wizarding fashion; dark, well cut robes. Now, complementing his new haircut, he was wearing what looked like very expensive Muggle jeans, a pair of boots and a long sleeved white shirt. It was a world of difference and Harry couldn't help but wonder what sort of point he was trying to make.

"Well, I don't think we're expecting anyone else?" the witch said, looking around. "Let's begin. I hereby call to order this custodial meeting for the temporary custody of the infant child, Ted Remus Lupin."

Harry watched with a sinking feeling in his stomach as she introduced the two other people at the table as Nurse Ruth Finch and Mr Tiberius Howsham; she herself was Madame Lenore O' Connell, a round faced, mousey brown sort of woman who had an air of complete control underneath her smiling exterior.

He was completely and utterly unprepared for this.

"Mr Malfoy, would you like to begin?" she offered.

Malfoy stood and took long, confident strides to the desk where he handed over the file of papers. "Ladies and Gentleman," he started as he stood behind the desk again, his fingertips resting on the smooth, polished wood. "My petition for custody of the infant child Ted Lupin is due to my familial connection; my mother and his grandmother are sisters, making him a cousin to me. Although my aunt and mother lost touch many years ago, I recently made contact with Mrs Tonks again."

He paused and looked down at his notes. "I am able to offer a warm and stable home. I have no other commitments that would take my time away from him, except for Thursday afternoons for an hour and Saturday afternoons." He glanced at Harry for the fist time. "The details of which can be found in the file in front of you. During this time I believe I can find suitable, Ministry approved childcare.

"I have a past, Madame O' Connell, which I am not proud of. However, I am repaying my debt to society and I think I should be afforded the same opportunity to take custody as anyone else." Malfoy took a deep breath, thanked the assembled people and sat down.

Harry now most definitely felt sick. Madame O' Connell smiled at him reassuringly, and he stood, clearing his throat.

"I don't have anything prepared," he started in apology. "I've only just heard that Andromeda- sorry, Mrs Tonks was taken into St Mungo's. I'm here… I suppose I'm here because I thought he didn't have anyone else. No, wait, I didn't mean it like that." He sighed and rubbed his face in desperation, unable to help thinking that this was not going very well at all. "I know what it's like to grow up without parents. And I don't want him to think that no one wanted him. Remus, I mean, his father Remus Lupin, he made me Teddy's godfather before he died. And I want to be there for him.

"That's all I have to say."

He slumped back in his seat, feeling for sure that he wasn't going to get anywhere. The only, consoling thought was that they couldn't possibly consider giving a child to Malfoy. That was just ridiculous.

The witch removed her glasses and set them in front of her with a sigh. She rubbed her temples absently as she scanned through the notes which had been passed to her and Harry tried desperately to calm down and look like he was in control. She was clearly thinking the decision through, which meant that it wasn't a foregone conclusion that he would be given Teddy at all. It was even harder to stop his eyes from straying to Malfoy who, of course, looked as calm and controlled as ever.

"Mr Potter," Madam O' Connell said eventually. "Mr Malfoy. You have both made fair appeals as to why you feel that the child should be placed in your care. My concerns are thus; that you are both barely adults and it would be negligent of me to fail to consider the sufferings you have both recently felt. I cannot pretend to understand why two teenage boys- _men,_" she corrected herself, "would even want to take on a child in these circumstances. Nevertheless, the child needs a home. And I have to decide if it is better for him to be placed with family, extended family or with another wizarding home where he would be cared for by those with more experience than yourselves.

"At this time, I can only see one fair and reasonable course of action. The infant child Ted Lupin will be placed in the _joint_ custody of Mr Harry James Potter and Mr Draco Malfoy for a period no longer than six months without review."

"What?" Harry and Malfoy exclaimed at the same time.

"Gentlemen. In the absence of any other adult family members on either side of the child's family I am left with little choice than to grant joint custody. I understand you both have your own place of residence, and I urge you now to decide on one location which you will _share-_ to care for the child together. I do not want a back- and- forth arrangement, here."

Draco caught Harry's eye again. "I don't care."

"I don't want to leave London," Harry said immediately. There was no way he was going to go live at Malfoy Manor. No way.

"Lovely," Madam O' Connell said, smiling serenely. "Mr Malfoy, I take it moving to London won't be a problem?"

"No," Malfoy said in an ice cold voice.

Harry watched in abject horror as Madam O' Connell signed her name on the documents and tapped her wand next to the signature where the Ministry seal appeared moments later. Draco stood and brushed off his robes, but the witch stopped him with a raised hand and a dry laugh.

"I want to leave it here just as much as you do, Mr Malfoy. But unfortunately there is much left to discuss."

Through his panic, Harry was relieved that this wasn't it.

"What about the press?" Harry said desperately. "They'd go mad with this sort of information."

Madam O' Connell looked to her colleagues with the sort of calm dispassion Harry was starting to expect from the stoic witch.

"There are things that can be done," the wizard, Howsham, said slowly. "We could put a blanket ban on any information pertaining to the child…"

"Would that not stoke their interest in the case?" the nurse suggested.

"But it's surely the easiest course of action," Howsham argued.

"If Mr Potter is involved I'm sure Rita Skeeter will find a way to report on it," Nurse Finch countered.

Harry felt like he was watching a tennis match, the two officials sparring off against each other with their verbal warfare.

"If I may interject," Malfoy said, standing with a calm confidence. Madam O' Connell nodded to him. "If I am, as you've suggested," (the word 'suggest' seemed to stick in his throat), "to live with Mr Potter in order to care for the child, then I feel that we, as much as said child, need the Ministry's protection. Not just from the press. There are few places that I feel safe these days..."

"I was under the impression, Mr Malfoy, that you had been cleared of any wilful involvement in the war," Howsham said coldly.

"There's a tattoo on my arm which marks me as guilty in the eyes of many," Malfoy responded bitterly.

"Now is not the time to debate war crimes," Madam O' Connell interjected. "Or, lack thereof. I appreciate your concern, Mr Malfoy, for your own safety and that of the child. I am sure we can come to some suitable arrangement."

It was nearly an hour later that Harry and Malfoy emerged from the hearing room.

"I need to go back to the Manor," Malfoy said in a calm monotone. "I'll pack up some stuff and then come back to your place."

"That's fine," Harry said, surprised that the other man was being so civil. "Is the Floo okay? I'll make sure it'll let you in."

"Yeah, fine," Malfoy shrugged.

Harry stared at his rapidly retreating back, wondering how on earth they came to be in this situation, and how he was possibly going to survive raising a child and living with Malfoy at the same time.

xXx

There wasn't time for him to do everything he wanted to do before Malfoy would be back. After saying goodbye to a shocked and dumbstruck Hermione at the Ministry he raced back to his home, still panicking wildly. He wanted to change the sheets on all of the beds and clear up the mess in the kitchen and the main living room and clear some space for the bloody bastard, but there wasn't time. Instead of doing anything productive, Harry paced the living room where Malfoy would undoubtedly appear in the Floo, and occasionally flicked his wand at offending items in his way, sending them zooming back to their proper locations.

This was _not _what was supposed to happen, Harry thought as he furiously paced. He could just about cope with the possibility of bringing home a baby to look after for the next few months, but to have Draco sodding Malfoy live with him for the privilege? That was just beyond… beyond.

The soft rush of green flames alerted him to the presence of another in the room. He hadn't changed from his stylish Muggle clothing.

"Hi," Harry said stiffly.

"Hello," Draco replied.

Harry sighed. "Come on. I'll show you around."

He lead the other man silently though the house, up another flight of stairs to the third floor.

"Uh, I was thinking I'd make this one Teddy's room," he said, indicating to a smaller bedroom that had been Ginny and Hermione's when the Order were occupying Grimmauld place. It had been empty for a long time though, and through lack of use a thick layer of dust had reclaimed its place over the bed and furniture. "Mine is next door, and you can go opposite?"

"Fine," Draco said. Harry gnashed his teeth together in frustration. Five minutes into this horrendous situation and Malfoy had given him a total of two words. Three syllables. Nine letters. Zero emotion.

Harry pushed the door open and showed him into Regulus Black's old childhood bedroom. He thought he heard a soft snort of derision from behind him but when he turned back, Malfoy's face was carefully schooled in neutrality.

Whatever was wrong with Regulus' old bedroom, Harry never did find out as Draco swung a soft leather case onto the bed, emitting a soft puff of yet more dust.

"I've only been back here a few weeks," Harry explained. "We've only cleaned out a few rooms."

"Obviously," Malfoy drawled.

"Well, I need to sort out Teddy's room. Shout if you need anything."

Malfoy merely nodded silently and Harry stalked from the room, pulling the door sharply closed behind him and pausing for a moment with his face in his hands, debating whether to go back and smack the ungrateful bastard in the face. But that wouldn't really achieve much, even if it would satisfy his more primal urges.

Since he'd said he was going to turn a bedroom into a nursery, that seemed like the most logical of things to do. They still had a few hours until they were due back at the Ministry and it needed to be done.

Harry had learned a few household spells from Molly Weasley and set about a dust excluding charm; it didn't work as well as it did for Molly but the little ball of orange light zoomed around the room, bouncing from surface to surface, turning steadily greyer before Harry opened a window and set it out into the afternoon air. Then he cast another one, just in case. A quick _Scourgify_ on the windows rid them of grime and he attempted the same spell on the curtains and just set them on fire. They'd have to make do until he managed to order some more.

The more tricky spells were the ones he did to transfigure the bed into a crib, making the sheets smaller and the mattress slimmer. The walls desperately needed a coat of paint (or three), but that too would have to wait. Harry noted miserably that he had no baby clothes, no toys or bottles or, _fuck_, anything for the child that someone was going to hand over to him in, _fuck again_, about twenty minutes time.

Malfoy cleared his throat from the doorway and Harry spun around, his wand out and heart racing until his head caught up with his instincts and he remembered that the man was actually supposed to be there.

"Do you have anything ready for a baby?" Malfoy asked with a sneer.

"No."

"Ah. Regretting charging in headfirst with no preparation? I thought you would have learned that lesson by now."

"Fuck off, Malfoy," Harry said with a sigh. He sheathed his wand in the back pocket of his jeans and rubbed his hands wearily over his face. "We need to leave. I'll make a list in a bit of what we need to buy,"

"I have… things," Malfoy said, making Harry's head jerk up in shock.

"What sort of things?"

"_Baby_ things, you stupid…"

"Okay," Harry interrupted before Malfoy had the chance to get the insult out. "I don't. That's fine. One or the other of us can get everything else later. We really do need to go."

Malfoy just nodded and silently turned, heading back down the stairs to the living room fireplace.

Despite the fact that it had been she who set up the regrettable arrangement, Madam O' Connell looked shocked that both men returned to collect the baby. She was accompanied by the St Mungo's nurse who had been at the hearing, Nurse Finch. She had a small, square bag slung over her shoulder and a bundle of blue blankets cradled in her arms.

"Ruth has been Teddy's carer since his guardian was taken into St Mungo's," Madam O' Connell said in introduction. "

Ruth nodded awkwardly. "Hi."

There was paperwork to sign, and countersign, and more paperwork to be filed the next day, but eventually the sleeping child was handed over to Harry, who was secretly pleased the Ministry official preferred to give the child to him rather than Malfoy.

Harry's throat felt thick as he looked down on the tiny boy, one who, like he, would never know his parents and how wonderful and brave and awesome they were. Teddy's paper- thin eyelids flickered in sleep and Harry held him tighter, just for a moment, as tiny fingers curled around the edge of the blanket.

"The first inspection will be the day after tomorrow," Madam O' Connell said warningly, pulling Harry's attention back to the present. "Circumstances being what they are, we'll give you that much time to make sure your affairs are in order. If they're not, gentlemen…"

Her words trailed off, not before Harry caught the implication. They were on probation. Fierce probation. One wrong step and Teddy would be taken off them and there wouldn't be any way of getting him back. There was no way he was going to let that happen.

Unsurprisingly, when the three of them returned to Grimmauld Place Ron, Hermione and Molly Weasley were there waiting for them. The trio jumped to their feet but held their respective tongues at the sight of the baby.

"I'll take him," Malfoy said softly, holding out his arms. It was the first thing he'd said to Harry since leaving the house for the Ministry. A pull in Harry's gut resisted handing the baby over; he was sure it registered on his face because Malfoy scowled, but he did it anyway.

"Come down to the kitchen," Harry said, leading them down another level and putting enough space between Ron and Draco Malfoy. Things were likely to turn combative between the two of them quickly if he wasn't careful. That, and he didn't want to have to yell at Malfoy for insulting his friends in his own house.

"I'll put some tea on," Hermione said weakly when they reached the kitchen. Harry sunk into a chair and put his head down on the familiar, scarred wooden table top. Then he thumped his head against it a few times for good measure. His golden snitch fluttered into the room and hovered reassuringly by his ear. Harry reached out to grab it and ran his thumb over the words engraved in the gold, a comforting gesture he'd developed for when he was feeling particularly helpless, which he was. In spades.

"Oh, Harry," Molly said, sitting down next to him and pulling him into a hug. "What have you gone and gotten yourself into?"

"I have no idea," Harry groaned.

"I can't believe that Ministry hag," Ron said. "I mean, _Malfoy?_ Who in their right mind would ask him to even look after their puppy, let alone a baby?"

"Don't," Harry said instinctively. "I have to live with him. I don't know how I'm not going to kill him, but I do have to live with him."

"We would have taken him, me and Arthur," Molly said, rubbing Harry's back soothingly. "You should have called us."

"I'm his godfather," Harry said. "This is what I'm supposed to do. This is why Lupin asked me to do it, so I'm doing it."

"You're too young," Molly said stubbornly.

"Yeah."

She clucked in sympathy. "What do you need?"

"I don't even know. Malfoy said he had some stuff. But I don't know what. I haven't really spoken to him."

"Well you should," Hermione said, setting mugs of steaming tea down on the table. Five mugs. Harry pondered that for a moment until he realised she'd made one for Malfoy too. He just shook his head in disbelief.

"I know I should," he said. "But right now I really wish I didn't have to."

"Makes two of us," Malfoy said from the doorway. He was leaning against the frame with his arms folded across his chest, looking for all the world like he owned the place. _Which he very nearly did,_ Harry thought. Malfoy probably had more claim over the building than Harry.

"Weasley. Granger. Mrs Weasley," Malfoy addressed the three in the politest way he possibly could without actually being polite.

"There's a mug of tea there for you," Mrs Weasley said… tightly, not unkindly, but not in the warm voice Harry was used to.

Malfoy swallowed and nodded. Walked carefully to the table and considered sitting down, then picked up the tea and leaned back against a counter to drink it.

"Would you mind if Pott- Harry and I had some privacy?" Malfoy said. "There's a lot we need to discuss. No matter how much he wishes we didn't."

Ron started to snarl but Hermione grabbed his upper arm and hauled him to his feet.

"We'll be upstairs, Harry," she said tightly, dragging Ron from the room.

Harry sat back in his chair, rocking it back onto two legs.

"Go on," he said defiantly. "You're the one who wanted to talk."

"You're the one who decided to petition for custody of a child without any resources to actually care for that child," Malfoy snapped back.

"And you do?" Harry countered.

"I have more than you."

"Clearly," Harry said with a corresponding sneer.

"If I could leave, and watch you fail miserably at this, I would," Malfoy said, slamming his untouched tea down on the counter. "But I can't. I can't abandon the only family I have left because he's _family,_ and I can't abandon him because of goddamn Ministry legislation."

"Fine," Harry snapped. "What do you have with you? I'll go out and buy the rest tomorrow."

Malfoy sighed heavily and rolled his shoulders back. "A few clothes. Some toys, and a mobile thing I found in the attic from when I was a child. Um, some bottles and things, but they could probably do with replacing. Oh, and some bed linen."

"Okay," Harry said. Then reluctantly added "thanks."

Malfoy mumbled something that sounded like "It's not for you," but Harry ignored it.

"I'll speak to Molly and find out from her what else we need. I think we'll survive the night."

"There were nappies and milk in the changing bag," Malfoy said, confusing Harry for a moment before he realised Malfoy meant the square bag the nurse had handed over with Teddy.

"Where is he now?" Harry asked.

"Sleeping," Malfoy said.

"Okay," Harry said again. "Okay."


	2. The Significance of Sleeves in the Night

_A/N: I will try to do weekly updates on this story; Sundays, apparently, are my day._  
_If you are new to my world, you can find me on twitter: (at) hidingfromsome1, and on tumblr: hidingfromsomeone (dot) tumblr (dot) com_  
_A quick note regarding the blog- it contains a lot, a lot **a lot** of explicit material. NSFW. But good fun!_  
_Thank you to everyone who reviewed so far! It's been great fun writing for you._

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Chapter 2- The Significance of Sleeves in the Night

"I'm too tired to cook," Harry said once Molly had left. She'd stayed slightly longer than Ron and Hermione, who had left when Teddy woke up crying, needing to be fed and changed. Malfoy had hovered at the doorway again, watching Molly's instructions on how to change the baby and dress him a new, clean baby grow. It looked too easy when she was doing it, but then, she was a mother of seven children. She'd had plenty of experience; to Harry's eyes there looked like too many things that could potentially go wrong.

Harry had let Molly mother the orphaned child for a little while, singing and cooing to him until he stopped crying, but Harry had insisted he needed to learn how to feed him and get him back to sleep. He'd hugged Molly for a moment longer than normal before she returned to The Burrow, then collapsed on the sofa.

"Okay," Malfoy said from where he was, once again, standing in the doorway to the living room.

"For goodness sakes, sit the fuck down," Harry said.

Malfoy moved silently to an arm chair and sat. Harry gnashed his teeth in frustration.

"Do you eat pizza?"

"I'm a Slytherin, not a bloody alien."

"What do you want on it?"

"Whatever," Malfoy sighed, leaning back into the chair.

Harry rose in silence and jogged down the stairs, pausing in the hall to shrug into a jacket against the cold, London night air.

Malfoy appeared on the bottom step. "Where are you going?" he said, his cool exterior slipping as his voice made way to panic.

"To get the pizza, where do you think I'm going?"

"You're leaving me on my own," Malfoy accused.

"Yes. For about twenty minutes. Teddy is sleeping, you'll be fine. Make yourself at home."

Harry patted his pockets, determined that his wallet was there and scowled at his houseguest. Then he left.

There was a moment, when he was standing at the counter in the pizza take away hatch, when he wondered if Malfoy was a vegetarian. Deciding if he was, he would have said, he ordered a large pepperoni with extra everything. He cast a surreptitious warming charm on the box as he walked out and hurried home.

"Malfoy?" Harry yelled as he stepped through the door and shrugged off his jacket.

"Shut the hell up," Malfoy hissed as he stuck his head around the kitchen door. "You'll wake him up."

"Sorry," Harry mumbled.

He trotted down the few stairs into the kitchen where Malfoy, or someone, had lit a fire in the grate and set the table with two plates and two bottles of Butterbeer. _Plates for pizza,_ Harry thought and refrained from shaking his head, although the temptation to do it was strong. He'd planned to eat it off his knees on the sofa.

"It looks good," Malfoy said.

Harry paused with a slice of pizza half way to his mouth. It was the first thing the other man had said that wasn't a response to a direct question. Harry nodded and closed the distance between food and mouth. They ate in near silence in the flickering light from the fire and candles.

"I think," Malfoy said, wiping his mouth with a linen napkin Harry didn't even know he owned, "We need to get more stuff."

Harry nodded. "Okay."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Eloquent, as always, Potter."

"Look," Harry started. "You're living in my fucking house. The least you could do-"

"Fine, fine," Malfoy cut him off with a long- suffering sigh.

"This is a list that I made," Harry said, pulling a piece of parchment from his pocket and slapping it on the table between them. "Molly gave me the name of an owl- order company who can supply most of it, if not all of it. I can send the order across now if you like."

Malfoy's eyes skimmed the list. He summoned a quill with a lazy flick of his wrist and added a few more lines to the list.

"Do you have an owl?" he asked without looking up.

"What?"

"I said: do, you have, an owl?" he said slowly.

Bile rose in Harry's throat, along with a flush in his cheeks. "No."

"Then how do you propose sending something by owl order?"

Harry remained silent.

"I'll go back to the Manor and bring a few of our birds back," Malfoy said. Harry wasn't sure how to judge his tone.

"Okay," he said, for lack of anything better to say.

Malfoy jotted details on the bottom of the parchment and sealed it with his wand. "I've got this."

"What? No. At least let me pay for half of it. You already bought stuff."

"I've got it," Malfoy said again and Harry decided not to argue.

He stood and cleared the plates away, banishing the empty pizza box and taking the plates and bottles to be washed by hand.

"I won't be long," Malfoy said softly and Disapperated. Harry didn't have time to say that he wouldn't be able to Apperate back within the wards of Grimmauld Place, Malfoy would have to figure that out on his own and take the Floo. He didn't know what he'd do with the owls, though.

The thought of there being post owls in the house made him feel sick to his stomach. He supposed he should go up to the attic and make sure there were adequate supplies for the birds, but he couldn't face doing it. Instead he hovered on the third floor in the doorway to Teddy's room, watching the baby sleep. If things were different, seventeen years before it could have been him sleeping soundly, with his own godfather watching over him. Too many _what- ifs._

However much it pained him to admit it, Malfoy was right. He had gone blazing in head first, determined to save his godson from the same fate he himself had been subjected to. Maybe it was because he was sure, were he alive and a free man, Sirius would have done the same for an infant Harry.

It was much, much later when Malfoy returned, although not through the Floo, as he'd expected.

"You can't Apparate inside this place, apparently," Harry mumbled as Draco landed elegantly in the living room with a 'pop'. "Where are the owls?"

"I sent one off with the order. The other one is coming back here. Do you have somewhere I can keep them?"

"The attic."

The exchange was painfully polite, but it was better to the precedent of bickering and sniping they'd set during their schooldays.

"I'm going to bed," Harry said. "Really, make yourself at home. There's no point in you tiptoeing around the place. You're going to be living here for the next six months."

"Okay," Malfoy agreed.

The word 'goodnight' was on the tip of his tongue, a habit, but he suppressed it and ascended to the third floor alone. He had no idea what Malfoy would be doing in his home alone, unsupervised, not that it mattered. For some unnameable reason, Harry trusted him. They hated each other, there could be no doubt about that, but found themselves in the regrettable position of having a shared goal.

Harry brushed his teeth and missed his pet. Malfoy's owls would undoubtedly be beautiful and that only made it worse. For all his considering purchasing a new owl, for the sake of easy communication, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

He left the bedroom door open slightly so if (or when) Teddy woke in the night he'd be able to hear him. Climbing beneath the cool sheets, it felt like a hundred years had passed since he rose from them that morning.

xXx

Harry was dragged from sleep from a harsh, breaking cry disturbing the peace and quiet of the house. He pulled on his glasses and stumbled out of bed, only half realising where he was and what he was doing, only to practically smash into Malfoy in the hall.

"I've got it," Harry mumbled.

"Awake anyway," Malfoy responded.

The baby was still crying which meant Harry couldn't be bothered to argue. He went straight to the transfigured crib and lifted the squirming baby out, boosting him so his head was on Harry's shoulder then gently bouncing him.

"I'll make up a bottle," Malfoy said and Harry nodded, still trying to juggle the baby's screaming away from his ear.

Teddy was surprisingly warm, his cheeks red with heat and Harry immediately worried that he was feverish, that something was wrong. Malfoy returned surprisingly quickly with the bottle. Harry wanted to check that he'd done it properly, but couldn't think of a way to ask that wouldn't result in an argument.

"Do you think it's alright to put the lights on?" Malfoy said, sounding almost… worried?

"On low, do you think?"

"Yeah." The room filled with three soft, pulsing balls of warm glowing light.

There wasn't a chair or anywhere to sit down in the nursery since Harry had transfigured the bed, so he sat down on the floor with his back against the wall, shifting the still screaming baby into the crook of his elbow like Molly had shown was best to feed him.

To his surprise, Malfoy sat down too, his back against the opposite wall and wrapped his arms around his knees. Harry caught himself staring at the long, very lean limbs that were covered in boxers and a long sleeved t shirt; Malfoy had rest his head on his arms and was staring at one of his pretty light balls. He quickly turned his attention back to the baby and shoved the bottle in his mouth.

The wailing cries stopped immediately and Teddy's big blue eyes settled, unblinkingly on Harry. He made sure to tilt the bottle like Molly had shown him and held the baby close, sharing his body heat and comfort.

"What were his parents names?" Malfoy asked.

It was possibly the last thing Harry expected to hear, and only just managed to stop his tired brain form blurting something inappropriate.

"Remus," he said, clearing his throat. "And Nymphadora. But no one called her Nymphadora, we all called her Tonks."

"I should have known that," Malfoy said.

"Well, Remus did teach us for a year," Harry said bitterly.

"I knew him as _Professor Lupin_. And that was, shit, four years ago?"

"And I thought you were close to Andromeda."

"I was," Malfoy said. Corrected himself: "am. But we didn't talk about her daughter very much."

"What _did_ you talk about?" Harry asked, shifting the baby to a more comfortable position in his arm. Malfoy took the opportunity to move as well, although hardly at all.

"My mother," he said, although it looked like the words pained him. "I wanted to know more about her. She's a very private woman; she and Aunt Bella would sometimes tell stories about their childhood, but not very often. And if Aunt Anna's name did come up, even in passing, then they'd both change the subject."

"Ted called her 'Dromeda."

"Yeah," Malfoy said. "I think she wanted to distance herself from her sisters. Not that I blame her.

"I suppose this must have been where they grew up," he said, his eyes widening as he looked around as if he'd never seen the place before.

"I don't think so," Harry said slowly. "It was Sirius' childhood home. Your mother would have been his cousin. I'm sure they probably spent time here, but they didn't live here."

"Oh," Malfoy said, his head returning to his arms.

"Why did you get in contact with her, though?" Harry pressed. "Your parents can't approve."

The bottle was nearly empty, the time for talking was nearly over.

"The same reason you tracked down your godfather in our third year," Malfoy said with a shrug. "I don't have any family left. You take whatever you can get."

"Yeah," Harry said, looking down at the child. "You do."

He carefully removed the bottle from the baby's mouth, panicking when the little face screwed up in preparation to start screaming again.

"Oh shit," he muttered.

A snort of laughter caught his attention, and Seeker's senses caught the thing flying towards him instinctively in an outstretched hand. He quickly put the dummy in Teddy's mouth, replacing the bottle and thankfully, he relaxed again.

"Thanks," Harry said before he could stop himself.

"We should change him before we put him back to bed," Malfoy said, getting to his feet and stretching. Harry awkwardly scrambled to his feet and Malfoy took Teddy from him before he could protest. He watched in fascination as the other man efficiently changed the baby and refastened the baby grow, then kissed him softly on the forehead before returning him to the crib.

One by one the little lights popped out. They exited in silence. Harry carefully shut the door until it was almost closed. Once again, he had to suppress the 'goodnight' on the tip of his tongue.

"There's no point in us both getting up every time," Harry said, standing with his hand on the door to his own bedroom.

Malfoy shrugged. "Like I said. I was awake anyway."

If he wasn't so tired, Harry would have thought more about _why _Malfoy was awake at two in the morning.

xXx

He slept right through to about seven the following morning, which surprised him because he was fully expecting to be woken again in the early hours. When he stuck his head around Teddy's door the little boy was sleeping soundly in a new, dark blue babygrow. Malfoy's door was shut.

Harry showered and dressed and headed down to the kitchen to start breakfast. He didn't know when the order that Malfoy had sent the previous night would arrive, or _how _it would arrive for that matter. The magical protection around the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix had been renewed since he'd made it his personal residence; Professor Flitwick himself had made the journey to London to make sure the wards were as strong as they could be. Harry's old teacher had said it was an honour to be asked. It wasn't Harry who had done the asking.

He pulled bacon and eggs from the magically chilled pantry and set about making enough breakfast for two. He had learned, from watching Mrs Weasley, that there were ways of preparing food by magic that took less time, but having grown up with the Dursleys it was more familiar to him to cook by hand.

"I didn't know you could cook," Malfoy said, making Harry jump and cease his tuneless humming. He was, of course, leaning against the doorway again.

"Yeah, well, there's a lot of things you don't know about me," Harry said, turning back to the stove. "Coffee's in the pot if you want some."

Malfoy silently made himself a mug of coffee and sat down in the same chair he'd occupied the night before.

"Want some?" Harry asked, dishing up the food.

"Please," Malfoy said quietly.

The other man dug into the food as Harry sat it down in front of him and while he ate, Harry took the time to properly look at him. He'd got the impression the night before that Malfoy was looking rough, but that was almost to be expected. He'd lost both his parents to prison and been left to bear the responsibility of their mistakes.

It was hard to judge, because Malfoy had always been tall and lean. But there was a difference between lean and skinny, between pale and undernourished. But it wasn't any of his concern.

"Did Teddy wake up again in the night?" Harry asked with his focus firmly on his food.

"Yeah. Once."

"I didn't wake up."

"I know. I spelled your door to keep the noise from waking you."

"Oh. Thanks, I suppose. You didn't need to."

Malfoy shrugged. "I was awake anyway."

"Again?" Harry asked, deciding to press the issue. "You were awake the first time, too."

"Yeah. I don't sleep well."

"Oh."

Silence.

"I had the baby things sent to the Manor. It appears you can't reveal the location of this place in a letter."

"No," Harry said, agreeing. "There's a lot of protection to stop people knowing I'm here. Won't people wonder why you're having baby things sent to your home?"

"I don't care what people think," Malfoy said with a cold smile.

"Me either," Harry said defiantly.

"Plus, I have a cover story."

Harry rolled his eyes. Malfoy was going to make him ask.

"Fine. Tell me, Malfoy, what's your cover story?"

"Pansy's pregnant. I doubt anyone will ask, but if they do, I'll say it's for her."

"Pansy?" Harry repeated. "Pansy Parkinson got knocked up? Oh, Hermione's going to love that. Who's the father?"

"Don't know," Malfoy shrugged. "She won't tell us. People think it's me."

"But it's not?"

"No."

A broken cry floated down the stairs. Both men jumped to their feet; Harry held out a hand.

"I'll go," he said, not waiting for a response.

This time he prepared the bottle, changed the baby and dressed him in day clothes. They really did need more things, that much was becoming clear. Harry had managed to stop Teddy from crying by helping him find the dummy again to soothe him and carried the child down to the sitting room to feed him.

Teddy, this morning, seemed happier. He was warm and his cheeks were rosy; he reached out for Harry as he approached the crib, making his heart pitch dangerously. He was becoming too attached, too quickly. It was so easy to fall in love with bright blue eyes and little fingers that grabbed at his hair and face.

"I cleared up in the kitchen," Malfoy said as Harry sat down in his favourite spot on the sofa.

"Okay." He then noticed that Malfoy had dressed in a Muggle coat. A long, tailored black coat. It, like the rest of Malfoy's wardrobe, looked expensive.

"I'm going back to the Manor," Malfoy explained. "I'll be back later."

"Okay," Harry said, glad to be alone with his thoughts. A soft roar of flames, and Malfoy left.

The silence was oppressive.

Harry carefully removed Teddy's dummy and replaced it with the bottle, relaxing a little bit as he watched eyes that had morphed into a familiar slate grey.

Just as he was finishing up, Hermione's face appeared in the fire.

"Is he here?" she asked.

"No. Come on through."

Hermione appeared with a grim expression on her face.

"I don't even know where to begin," she said as she flopped down next to him on the sofa, pulling the baby from his arms and gracefully transferring him to her shoulder to pat his back. Harry wondered where girls learned these things. "Did you kill him in his sleep?"

Harry laughed, once. "No. Not yet."

"Good. I think a murder would just complicate things at this stage. They've stabilised Andromeda," she said, rushing out with her own news.

"Really? Yeah?" Harry's stomach leapt at the revelation.

"She was cursed, they know that much for sure now, although the precise nature of the curse hasn't been found. She's alive, but it's going to be a while before we know the extent of the cursing."

"How did anyone manage curse her in the first place?"

"By owl, in a letter," Hermione said sadly, gently rubbing soothing circles into Teddy's back. "It's so obvious. A few months ago no one would ever have thought of opening an unknown letter without doing the standard checks first. But everyone has let their guard down. It's terrible."

"I suppose," Harry said, "This is why what Ron and Neville are doing is so important. There are clearly evil people still out there."

"Exactly!" Hermione exclaimed. "And Kingsley is going to launch another campaign to try and keep people's awareness up. It won't help Andromeda, but maybe it'll help the next person.

"What's wrong?" she demanded, shrewdly surveying his face.

"Nothing," Harry tried to lie, but his oldest friend knew him too well.

"Tell me," she said in a warning tone.

"Where's Ron?" he asked feebly.

"At the Ministry. He won't be home until later. Tell me."

"It's Malfoy," Harry said with a resigned sigh.

"What about him? Is he giving you grief?"

"No, not really," Harry said. "He's his usual rude, obnoxious self."

Hermione huffed and Harry thought back.

"Except he isn't, not really," he continued. "He seems, I don't know. Almost… broken? There's no fight left in him. We argue, but his heart isn't in it. He's really skinny, Hermione. He looks ill. He was awake both times when Teddy woke up in the night, which was about two o' clock in the morning and some other time before seven when I got up. I don't think he sleeps."

"Everyone needs to sleep sooner or later," Hermione said reasonably.

"I know that," Harry said irritably.

"Where is he now?"

"Gone to get all of the stuff we ordered last night," Harry said. "We only have until tomorrow until the Ministry lady will be round to make sure we have everything for him and the house is safe."

"Do you have time to do all of that?" Hermione asked, sounding nervous. "There's a lot to do on this place."

"I know," Harry said with a sigh. "This room is okay. And so is the kitchen. We just need to make his room look good and as much of the hallways and stuff as we possibly can."

"You're going to try and redecorate? In a _day?_"

"Yeah. We have to try."

"Right," Hermione said, summoning parchment and a quill from the bureau in the corner of the room."

Hermione's skills of organisation were practically legendary. It only took half an hour for her to create a rigorously detailed list of Things To Do and Things To Buy, all the time balancing a quill and parchment on one knee and a baby on the opposite shoulder.

When Teddy started to fuss Harry took over and shifted the baby into the crook of his arm where he could see what was going on, and found a dummy to comfort him.

"What time will Draco be back?" Hermione demanded as she reread her lists.

"No idea," Harry shrugged. "He didn't say."

"Well, that's useful," she said sarcastically.

"Hermione," Harry admonished lightly. Checked the clock on the wall. "Do you want some lunch?"

"No thanks, not yet," she said, stretching.

A loud banging on the front door, along with a ringing doorbell set the portrait of Mrs Black off screaming in the hallway, which prompted Teddy to start screaming too. And he'd been only moments away from going back to sleep, Harry thought angrily. He stormed down the stairs, violently flicking his wand (and middle finger) at Mrs Black to shut her up, but there was no corresponding Silencing Charm for the baby in his arms. Hermione followed him, flapping her arms and struggling to close the heavy curtains the portrait usually lurked behind.

Flinging the door open, he prepared to snarl and/ or shout at the person who had disturbed their peace.

"Why is he crying?" Malfoy asked from behind a large box.

"Because you fucking woke him up," Harry said irritably. "Don't ring the doorbell, okay?"

"Okay," Malfoy said haughtily, moving past Harry into the hallway where he dumped the box. "There's more of these outside."

"Well, I can't exactly help." His voice was raised over the screaming baby.

Even as he paced and shushed and bounced Teddy, Harry took pleasure in watching Malfoy move the many boxes of baby things into the house by hand, not risking Muggle neighbours watching the proceedings if he did it by magic. Manual labour was clearly not something the blonde man was used to. His hair was stuck to his forehead.

"Fuck," he huffed as he hauled in the last box and slammed the door shut.

"FILTH!" screamed the portrait, setting Teddy off again.

"What the hell-" Malfoy started, but the rest of his words were drowned out by Mrs Black.

A loud bang issued from the second floor landing which Harry attributed to Hermione but it made Malfoy jump, Harry smirked with twisted pleasure.

"That," Harry said, his voice still louder than normal over the noise of the crying baby, "Is a portrait of Mrs Black. Sirius' mother. Your… great aunt, I suppose. She doesn't like me very much."

To Harry's complete shock, Malfoy snickered. "No, I don't suppose she would."

"I expect," Harry said in a cold voice, "She would like _you _very much."

"Maybe," Malfoy mused.

"Are you two going to stand around discussing ancient history all afternoon?" Hermione asked loftily as she descended the grand staircase. "Only, there's quite a lot of work to be done. Malfoy."

"Granger," he said in uptight greeting.

"What's all of this?" Hermione asked, gesturing to the boxes and tossing Harry a fresh dummy, which Harry tried to get a still- whimpering Teddy to accept.

"Baby things," Draco said vaguely. "For the baby, you see."

"If you want to redecorate, you should do that before you start moving things into the room," Hermione said. Her voice was still tight, but with the chance to take charge came utter familiarity to her, and with such, relaxation.

"Painting is quicker than wallpapering," Harry said with a tired sigh.

"Painting?" Malfoy said on a disgusted sort of shriek. "I'm not painting anything."

"We don't have to decorate the Muggle way, Harry," Hermione said. "There are spells, I did some research…"

"Eat first," Harry interrupted her. "Research later."

With Teddy still balanced on his shoulder, Harry made his way down the few steps that lead to the kitchen and started to pull bread and cheese from the pantry. Female hands lifted the child from his arms as he stoked the hob with his wand to make flames and set a heavy iron skillet on to warm; he ignored the activity behind him as he sliced cheese in even slices and buttered bread.

The familiar rhythm of preparing food soothed him and he let his mind empty beyond the task at hand. He was sure some apocalyptic event was happening between 'Granger' and 'Malfoy', but as long as he wasn't involved he didn't care. Draco wasn't likely to hex Hermione if she was holding the baby: on this he laid his hopes.

He sliced the toasted sandwiches on the diagonal and loaded the plates; on turning back to the table he nearly dropped them in shock. Draco and Hermione were sat side by side, one of Hermione's lists between them. Draco was scratching out lines of what she had written with a handsome black quill, and they were bickering in low voices.

"Food," Harry said weakly.

Hermione rolled her eyes and summoned three packets of crisps from a cupboard which smartly landed next to each plate as Harry set them down. Draco immediately swapped his Cheese and Onion for Harry's Salt and Vinegar.

"There's a seat thing out there somewhere," Draco said as he pulled the packet open.

"A seat thing," Hermione repeated. "Useful. Thanks."

"I'll find it out in time for dinner."

Harry ate quickly and relieved Hermione of the baby so she could finish eating in peace. She shot him an appreciative smile as he balanced Teddy on unsteady, chubby legs on the table, supporting him under his arms. He gurgled appreciatively.

"What were you talking about?" Harry asked, feigning nonchalance.

"Granger was attempting to tell me how to decorate," Malfoy said in a familiar drawl. "She was, clearly, incorrect."

Hermione huffed and cleared the plates away.

The afternoon was filled with cleaning and changing the décor of Teddy's room and making sure it looked like a welcoming, suitable place for an infant. Draco disappeared after lunch and locked himself in his room with Teddy; something that annoyed Hermione no end but Harry was secretly glad to be rid of him. He knew, deep down, that there were serious conversations that needed to be had with the bloody Slytherin bastard, but he couldn't find the energy to ask questions that would undoubtedly drag up a past he was desperate to put behind him.

After a few hours work, the room looked almost unrecognisable from the dark, dank space that it was before. The rest of the house clearly needed the same treatment. The work was hard, though, and even with the help of magic, things still seemed to take time.

Harry levitated the boxes from their position in the downstairs hallway and, as silently as he could, lifted them past the portrait of Mrs Black to the nursery. Only on unpacking them did he realise the extent of Draco's editing of his order.

The accessories for the room; blankets, new curtains, what Hermione informed him was a 'changing table' and a new wardrobe were all a soft, greyish powder blue. There was a box dedicated to baby clothes and another to toys, dummies and rattles. One box, labelled 'Caution: open in an area with plenty of surrounding space' contained a rocking chair which rapidly grew from doll size to human size as the wrappings were peeled away. It too matched the blue theme.

Although he was sure his system wasn't perfect, it made sense to Harry as he unpacked everything and methodically set it in place. Looking around, he tried to think of anything they may have forgotten.

"We need… something like walkie talkies," Harry said desperately.

"Baby monitors," Hermione said with her air of maddening superiority. She had just finished setting baby grows in a drawer of the dresser.

"What?"

"Something like Muggle baby monitors," she explained. "You put one in the babies' room and the pair goes in your room, and if he cries, you can hear it."

"Yeah, something like that," Harry said.

"I don't know," she mumbled. "A _Conspectus_ charm, maybe, but you'd need to split it two ways."

She wandered off mumbling something about a library. Harry wondered what library, exactly, since they weren't at school any longer.

It was several hours before she returned with a maniacal gleam of accomplishment in her eyes. Harry was drinking tea in the living room, having finally sent Teddy off to sleep again. Draco was in his room doing… something. Harry didn't want to know.

"_Conspectus_ charm," Hermione said triumphantly. "It can be contained with a variation on a bubble charm and as long as we control the temperature with a _stasis_, it'll work. Professor Flitwick was very impressed."

"Flitwick? You've been to Hogwarts?"

"Yes, of course," she said irritably. "They've almost finished all of the renovation work now, it's looking pretty good."

"You went to Hogwarts during the _summer holidays?_" he repeated, scandalised.

"Yes," she snapped. "And I've got you your baby monitor now, so you could be a little bit more grateful, if you ask me."

"Thank you," he said hastily. "I'm impressed, honestly. But I knew if anyone could figure it out it would be you."

"Hummph," Hermione said.

"You're going back, aren't you? For NEWT year?" He knew this already but felt the need to smooth rumpled feathers.

"Yes. I saw Professor McGonagall as well."

"Hmm?" Harry said over his tea.

"She might have said she wants me as Head Girl," Hermione said in a rush, her cheeks colouring pink.

"Congratulations," Harry smiled. "That's really great, Hermione."

"It's going to be weird," she mused. "School without you and Ron there."

Harry shrugged. "We've got different things that need to be done."

"I know," she said softly. "I don't mind."

"Do you think many people will go back?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I know McGonagall wanted to make everyone go back and repeat their last year at one point."

"Where did you hear that?" Harry asked, impressed with the information.

"Oh, around," Hermione said airily. "It wouldn't work, of course. No one _has_ to do their NEWT year anyway. I think there's going to be about twenty of us going back."

"That's not very many."

"No," Hermione agreed. "But some people took their exams over the summer anyway."

"Did any of them pass?" Harry asked.

"I suppose some of them must have done," she shrugged. "There were actual lessons going on last year, I know a lot of people got caught up in all of the evil, but I suppose if you kept your head down and off the radar and actually did all the work, it would be possible to squeeze an education out of the place. After all, most of the normal teachers were still there."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," Harry said with a sigh.

"Of course I am."

"Do you want to stay for dinner?" he asked hopefully.

"I'm going back to Ostrich Court tonight," she apologised. "I'll do the charms for you, then I need to go."

"Ah, okay," Harry sighed.

"You have to talk to him sooner or later, Harry. I won't always be here to play mediator."

"I talk to him," Harry mumbled.

"Right," Hermione smirked. "Of course you do."

Malfoy's door was still firmly shut, and there was no noise from within when Harry and Hermione passed. She showed him how to set up the tricky little surveillance charm; it hovered in his room, reminding him of one of Professor Trelawney's crystal balls. Only he actually saw things in this one.

"And they move?" he asked, poking it with his wand.

"Yes," Hermione said. "You just push it along."

He was, as always, supremely impressed with Hermione's magical abilities. She left him with a kiss on the cheek before turning away in the Floo, leaving Harry with a silent house and no one for company except Malfoy. Draco. He nudged one of the _Conspectus_ charms into Teddy's room, wincing on the creaking floorboard which he spelled silent. The corresponding charm bobbed behind him like a demented, magical balloon.

The cupboards were starting to look pathetic again. He'd stocked up the pantry when he moved back into the house, but that was months ago now. There was a little Muggle convenience store just around the corner, where he picked up bread and milk, but he rarely went as far as the local supermarket.

Harry found enough in the way of vegetables to be able to put a stew together with some beef that needed to be used up anyway. He found the little charm reassuring; the house was large, and without it he felt too separated from the baby in his charge. His snitch fluttered around it, bumping into it from time to time in confusion. He got the impression the snitch didn't like this new, floating intruder.

Malfoy came downstairs with Teddy in one arm and a funny round object in the other, just as Harry started to worry about having to knock on his door to tell him the dinner was ready. Once again he had dressed himself in dark jeans and a long sleeved jumper, the dark gray making him look paler than he already was. Harry nodded to him as he set up the round… _thing_, which hovered a few inches off the table as Draco securely strapped Teddy into it. A prod of his wand later and it started to play a tinkling tune.

Harry carved a round loaf of bread into quarters and dumped one piece on each plate, listening to the sounds of the baby's delighted gurgles.

"Help yourself," he said, nodding to the pot as he ladled the last of his portion out and took his usual seat at the table. Teddy looked very happy with his latest, most likely top of the range, accessory.

Draco sat down opposite him in silence and began to eat the rich stew.

"We should talk," Harry said after a few moments of silence, occasionally broken by the clink of metal on china.

"That seems to be your most favourite phrase at the moment," Draco said. "What do you want to talk about? The weather? The chances of Puddlemere United winning the league? The state of your wardrobe?"

"No," Harry snapped, his face flushing.

"Raining, zero to none, and dreadful," Malfoy said, gesturing with a piece of bread.

"I would be happy to hex your ungrateful arse to a week on Tuesday, but that isn't really an option," Harry snarled, pushing his chair back and lunging angrily to his feet.

"Fine." Malfoy dropped his spoon in his empty bowl and crossed his arms. "Talk."

"There's so much history between us, I barely know where to start."

"I wanted to say thank you," Malfoy said, interrupting him. "For sending my wand back. And for doing whatever it was that you did that kept me out of Azkaban."

Harry nodded. "Okay. Thank you for not turning us over to him... back at your house, in March, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Malfoy mumbled, examining the contents of his bowl.

"Why didn't you?"

"Because," he mumbled again. He shrugged.

"Because. Right."

"Fuck, Harry, you know why," he implored.

Harry dropped his spoon into his empty bowl with a clatter. "What did you just call me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you change your name without telling me?" Malfoy said, every word dripping with sarcasm.

"No, it's just, you just," Harry fumbled, flustered beyond belief. "You call me Potter," he finished lamely.

Malfoy stood uncertainly and walked around to the other side of the table. Chewed his lip. Shuffled from one foot to the other. Harry stood too in an automatic gesture of defence.

"Hi," Malfoy said, extending his hand. "I'm Draco. I've done a lot of shitty things in the past. I'm not a particularly nice person. But I think... I _hope_ that we can be friends."

Harry was struck dumb. Slowly, he grasped hold of the other man's hand and shook it. "We can't forget the past," he said deliberately. "It's too huge. But maybe we can forgive the shitty things we did to each other and move on."

"That would be good," Draco said. "It's good to know you, Harry."

"You too... Draco."


	3. Of Devious Thursdays

_A/N: It's not Sunday.  
I am aware of this.  
It's just that I've realised that there are people reading this story who have been reading my stories for, like, two and a half years. They've followed me through original characters, across genres, pairings, and now fandoms. That's crazy! And they're still reviewing! I would send them all cake if I could, but that's a bit of a logistical nightmare, so instead, this chapter is humbly dedicated to VAVikingGirl, snickerdoodle6949, mauralee88 and anyone else who has been with me since forever. I really do love you guys. I'll post again on the weekend as normal.  
In this chapter the title of the story will start to make a bit more sense. Or a lot less sense, maybe. I do wonder whether anyone has translated the Latin for themselves or figured it out yet..._

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Chapter 3- Of Devious Thursdays

Harry knocked lightly on the door, hoping and wishing that he wasn't disturbing anything.

"Come in," Malfoy called out.

He didn't want to go in, either. But he did, pushing the door open but not stepping into the room.

Malfoy was sat on the windowsill, well, half on the windowsill, with one long leg draped down inside the room for balance. The sash window was thrown up and he was lazily smoking a clove cigarette.

"Didn't know you smoked," Harry said, not bothered either way.

"Didn't know you cared," Draco retorted. He flicked the cigarette out of the window and pulled the sash back down. "Did you want something?"

Did he? Oh yes. "What happened in here?"

Although that wasn't really what he wanted to say, it was the most immediate, pressing issue he came up with. Regulus' old bedroom had been admittedly a dump when he'd moved Draco into it. The wallpaper had been peeling, the woodwork was chipped, it was dark and dank and the entire place was covered in dust. Now, although the elegant dark wood and ornate fabrics remained, the room had been restored to what seemed to be its former glory.

One of Draco's shirts was tossed carelessly over the back of a high backed chair and the large, gilt framed mirror that Harry was sure used to be cracked and clouded now hung straight on the wall. It was undoubtedly beautiful, but Harry had had nothing to do with it.

"What?" Malfoy shrugged. "I guessed you had a house elf do it."

"I don't own an elf," Harry said coldly.

"I don't know then."

"There's a garden out back, you know," Harry said. "If you want to smoke."

"Really? Where?"

"If you go out through the pantry there's a door to the outside. It's a courtyard really, more than a garden, but Remus and Sirius always used to go out there when they wanted a smoke."

"I'll check it out," Draco said, nodding. Harry turned to leave. "Wait," he called, halting him.

"Yeah?"

"I saw the article. In the _Prophet._"

"There's been a lot of articles in the _Prophet_ recently," Harry said drily. "I've stopped reading it to be honest."

"About Severus."

"Oh," Harry qualified and stepped back into the room, suddenly feeling the need to sit down. He perched on the edge of the chair, careful not to lean back and crease the shirt. "People needed to know."

"Yeah," Draco said vaguely. "How did you... how did you know? All of that?"

"He gave me his memories just before he died," Harry said. Although he had been instrumental in making sure the wizarding world knew that Snape was a hero, he was wary of releasing exactly how those memories had come to be in his possession; aware, maybe, that once their existence was known, everyone would want a piece of them.

"Why you?"

Harry snorted. "Tactful. He was dying, Malfoy. If he didn't give them to me then his story would have been lost forever. The only other person who knew that he was a double agent was Dumbledore."

Draco shook his head and dropped his cheek to the wall, peering out of the glass to the fading afternoon sunlight. "All those times he was trying to help me. And I just thought he was trying to steal my glory. Not that there's any glory left in being a Malfoy now, anyway."

Leaning forward so that his elbows rest on his knees, Harry surveyed the blonde man. Since their awkward conversation in the bathroom a few days prior he'd been very wary of trying to engage Draco in any kind of conversation beyond simple greetings or words about the baby in their care.

"Did no one suspect anything? On your..."

"On my side, you can say it," Malfoy interjected. "My aunt never trusted him. Not really."

"Bellatrix?" Harry asked. A small knot of something nasty had formed in the pit of his stomach.

"Yeah." He looked over at Harry. "You didn't like her."

"I didn't like her?" Harry repeated incredulously. "The woman was a fucking psychopath, Malfoy! She killed my godfather, she tortured my best friend, we're pretty fucking sure she killed Teddy's mother..."

"Okay, okay," he said. "I didn't like the crazy bitch either. At least you didn't have to live with her. She wasn't just insane, you know," Malfoy continued. "Aunt Bella. She was fucking crazy, but she wasn't insane."

"Tell me. I'm listening."

"She knew nonverbal magic, wandless magic, nonverbal wandless Unforgivable curses, for fuck's sake. I heard whispers around the Manor that there were only about five wizards in existence who knew how to do that, you know. She used to spend hours and hours locked up with the Dark Lord and no one knew what they were doing. He taught her a lot."

"And then she taught you."

"Yeah. She was the one who taught me the Unforgivables on rabbits in the Manor grounds. She wasn't going to give it up until I could do nonverbal AK at the very least. And wandless at the best."

"How much wandless magic can you do?" Harry asked.

"A lot," Draco admitted. "They started me with wandless duelling spells, and once you can do those then you can apply the theory to pretty much every other spell you know.

"Uh..." he looked like he was debating about whether or not to continue. "After you escaped with Granger and the Weasel back in March she kept me under Imperius."

"You're kidding."

"I wish I was."

"How long for?"

Draco sighed heavily. "Um, about four or five weeks, I think."

"Fuck, Malfoy. Why?"

"Mostly to save me from myself," he admitted. "From time to time I'd say the wrong thing and after the escape we were tortured pretty badly. By Bellatrix, interestingly enough."

Harry was aghast. "She tortured her own family?"

"Oh yeah. I said she wasn't _completely _insane, but she was definitely fucking crazy. It made her a complete unknown entity. We'd be there, killing rabbits on the South lawn and I knew that if the Dark Lord ordered her to she'd kill me with as little thought as those poor fucking rabbits. He was the only thing she cared about.

"But, then again, she kept me under Imperius to stop me getting into more trouble, so I guess she did care about me on some level."

"I can't imagine..." Harry shook his head. "The not knowing must have been awful."

"You can't understand how fanatical these people were about blood purity and family lines and the honour attached to being of Black and Malfoy descent. That's why she taught me Occlumency, you know."

_No,_ Harry thought after a moment. _I don't know._ The thought must have registered on his face, because Malfoy elaborated.

"I'm gay, Potter."

"Oh," Harry managed.

"I don't want to marry a pure blood witch and make lots of nice little pure blood heirs. I needed to hide this fact from as many people as possible until we could come to some sort of arrangement that would probably have meant me marrying some poor witch and having a male lover on the side.

"Of course, Aunt Bella blamed my father for my sexuality."

"How did she manage that?"

"Apparently there's a long tradition of Malfoy men being gay. It goes back hundreds of years. They were all at it."

Harry laughed softly. "That's incredible. You can't inherit sexual preferences."

Draco tilted his head to the side. "I don't know. Either way, the Dark Lord would undoubtedly used the information to torture me and my family even further. Any little sign of weakness..."

"You were one of the youngest," Harry said; stating the obvious, he was sure, but hoping to prompt Malfoy into revealing more about what had happened on the other side, such as it was, in the previous year.

"Yeah. By at least ten years."

"And... you took your father's place? When he was sent to Azkaban?"

"Yeah."

The cold Malfoy mask was back in place. He summoned a small, engraved tin from a bedside drawer and rolled another cigarette with long, skilled fingers. He threw the sash wide open again and lit the cigarette with the tip of his wand, huffing mauve smoke into the dusk.

There was more, so much more that Harry wanted to know. He didn't know if Malfoy's silence was one of introspection, or fear, or his way of indicating that it was time for Harry to leave. The high pitched cry of a restless infant prevented Harry from learning anything more.

"Potter."

Harry stopped, once again, with his hand on the silver doorknob.

"I'll tell you more. Another time."

"Okay. Me too."

xXx

"We need food," Harry said dryly, standing at the open pantry door the next morning and surveying the severe lack of anything to eat. They had plenty for the baby, of course, but nothing for them to eat. Truth be told, Harry had ordered takeaways for the past few nights.

"Well, go and get some then," Draco said. He didn't look up from his _Prophet_ or his coffee.

"I need you to watch Teddy for a few hours then."

"What?" Draco looked up in horror. "No, don't leave me on my own, I hate that."

"I'm not packing up everything to take him with me when you're staying here anyway not doing anything," Harry huffed. He pulled his jacket from where it was slung over the back of a chair and started to button it up. Malfoy, to his delight, looked more than slightly panicked.

"What do I do if he wakes up?"

"Same thing you do if he wakes up during the night," Harry said as he patted his pockets, making sure he had his Muggle credit card in his pocket. He preferred the Muggle supermarkets to the market on Diagon Alley. No one recognised him in the former. "Feed him, change him and be bloody nice to him."

"What if something goes wrong?"

"Draco. Nothing will go wrong."

"But what if it does?"

"Stick your head in the fire and call Hermione or Mrs Weasley."

Draco looked disgusted. "Yeah, like either of them would help _me._"

"No, but they'd help Teddy. I'll be as quick as I can."

Harry rushed out of the door before he could be held up even further.

The aisles of Waitrose were blissfully quiet and he hummed along to the music being played from hidden speakers as he pulled food from the shelves. Since Malfoy had kicked up such a fuss about being left alone he stocked up as much as possible so that he wouldn't need to do another shop for a few weeks.

It had been a while since he'd been to a supermarket, Harry mused as he perused the different cereals on offer, trying to think of what Malfoy would like. The little corner shop served him well enough. And Molly used to drop round leftovers for him when he was living alone. Not so much since Malfoy had moved in as well.

When it came to the baby aisle he found his hands going automatically to the formula Teddy liked best, the nappies they were running low on, and a few toys and rattles as a treat.

"New dad?" the grey haired, smiling lady at the checkout asked as he started piling his things on the belt.

"Yeah, sort of," Harry smile d back. "My godson has come to live with me."

"Oh, how lovely," she said and packed his bags for him.

He could have easily shrunk and lightened the bags to be able to carry them home himself, but it would have been too conspicuous and he called a taxi from the supermarket's payphone to make the short journey instead. Harry checked his watch as the driver helped him to the door with all the bags; he'd only been gone for just over an hour. And he'd spent a fortune.

Harry unlocked the front door with a covert _Alohomora_ and started piling the bags into the hall.

"Draco?" he yelled. "Malfoy! Come and help me with all this you lazy shit!"

The house was silent. Harry snarled and muttered curses under his breath as he pulled the last few bags through and shut the door behind him, then spelled the bags feather light and levitated them through to the kitchen table.

He supposed the other two residents of the house were napping and turned on the small radio he kept to keep him company when he was cooking. Not that he recognised any of the wizarding bands apart from _The Weird Sisters_.

When the shopping had been assigned to the correct cupboards Harry set about making a cup of tea, having purposefully set aside the chocolate biscuits when he was unpacking.

"Make me one," Draco said as he came into the kitchen through the pantry and the door that lead to the courtyard. He had a smiling Teddy sat on his hip and he looked happier than when Harry left.

"He woke up then," Harry said as he reached up for another mug from the cupboard.

"Yeah. We've been out in the garden."

"I was taking the piss about a garden, Draco." Harry poured another mug of tea from the pot. "It's a sunless concrete box, I'm aware of that."

"Well yes, but if you go through the door at the back then it takes you through to the garden," Draco said with an air of maddening superiority Harry was used to hearing from Hermione.

"There isn't a door at the back," Harry said. He carried the two mugs of tea to the table with the packet of biscuits between his teeth. Draco had set Teddy up in his soft, levitating chair again and was making blue sparks appear from the end of his wand.

"Um, yes there is. Where else do you think we've been?" Harry stayed silent and drank his tea, sensing a trap. "He does this thing when he touches flowers, it's so cool, he can make his fingertips change to the same colour as the flower. Like a chameleon."

It was the first time Harry had seen genuine enthusiasm from his childhood nemesis since, well, he'd been torturing Harry back in their school days. His face seemed to light up as he talked about the baby.

"Maybe you can show me later."

"Yeah," Draco said, distracted as Teddy tried to grab the end of his wand. He switched to conjuring bubbles instead which Teddy seemed to love as he tried to pop them.

"The lady at the supermarket asked me about him," Harry said. He split the packet of biscuits down the side and took one, offering the packet to Draco. "But it's too risky to take him out yet though. He might go blue again."

Teddy's hair occasionally turned colour, but most of the time it was a light, reddish blonde that he'd inherited from his father. They had no idea about the development of his Metamorphmagus abilities and how it would affect the baby as he grew. Harry supposed he should ask Hermione. She could always send him a book from the Hogwarts library.

"So the world didn't end just because I left you alone with a baby, then."

"Shut up, Potter," Malfoy mumbled. "I've never been around kids before. It's fucking scary. You feel like you're constantly in danger of breaking them. Or hurting them."

"There's books with the stuff Hermione brought over," Harry said, dunking his biscuit. "About how to look after children. They're Muggle books, but I've found them pretty useful."

Draco nodded.

They lapsed into awkward silence.

"Have you closed up your house yet?" Harry asked eventually, just to break the tension that was building.

"Yeah. Sort of."

Harry raised an eyebrow, wanting him to continue.

He huffed. "The elves have been given instructions to keep the place clean, but I don't really know what else to do with them. I got the impression you don't want them here."

"It's not really big enough," Harry said. "And no, I don't want an elf here."

"Why?"

"I'll tell you another time."

"Fine." Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not setting them free, before you suggest that. My mother will be out in five years and if she finds out I've dismissed the elves she'll have a fit."

"Why don't you send them to Hogwarts? Just temporarily, I mean. That's what I did with Kreacher."

Draco frowned and made more bubbles for the gurgling baby. "That's an idea, I suppose."

"Call McGonagall."

"You call her."

"They're your bloody elves, Malfoy."

"She won't take a call from me."

"She will."

"She bloody well won't."

"Fine," Harry said, just to break the argument. "I'll call her. How many are there?"

"Six."

Harry rolled his eyes and ignored Malfoy's sarcastic 'what?'

"You hate me," Malfoy mumbled after another Harry had refilled both their mugs and started on the second half of the packet of biscuits.

"I don't hate you," Harry said honestly.

"You do. Don't try and be so superior that you can't even admit to hating me. You've always hated me."

"I don't hate anyone, Draco," Harry sighed, feeling tired and very old all of a sudden.

"You must."

"I really don't, I promise. It takes too much energy to hate people. Anyone who was worth hating is now dead, and if I'm going to spend my time thinking about people who aren't here any more then it's going to be about people I loved. Love," he corrected. "People I still love."

Draco nodded slowly, thinking. "The people who raised you. Your aunt and uncle."

"What about them?"

"Have you seen them? Since it all ended?"

"No," Harry said shortly.

"Really? Not even to tell them you're still alive?"

"They don't care if I'm alive, trust me," Harry said to the pale brown tea in his mug. He looked up to Draco's slate grey, disbelieving eyes. "If you want me to recount the horrors of my childhood then I'll warn you that it's a pretty gruesome story."

"It's up to you."

"I spent ten years being beaten, verbally abused, physically abused, mistreated, not fed properly and thoroughly bullied by my cousin. Happy now?"

"Not really," Draco mumbled. "I didn't know…"

"No, no one knew it was that bad," Harry snapped.

"Not even Dumbledore?"

Harry sighed heavily. "I think he had an idea."

"And he didn't get you out of there?" Draco asked incredulously. The baby's eyes were drooping and Harry could tell he was only moments from falling into sleep. That was good. It was time for his nap.

"No."

"Why the fuck not?"

"Don't say _fuck_ in front of the baby, Malfoy," Harry said and helped himself to another biscuit.

He snorted with laughter and took a biscuit too. "Fine. Why not?"

"It's a really, really long story," Harry groaned, pushing his glasses up to rub at his eyes.

"In case you hadn't noticed, I don't exactly have anywhere to be."

Harry made a third pot of tea as he spoke, needing the distraction and familiar routine as he recounted his deepest secrets to his worst enemy. "When Voldemort killed my parents, he offered my mother a chance to save herself, if she stepped aside and let him kill me. She didn't, of course, so she died saving me.

"That kind of magic; well, Dumbledore always used to say that Voldemort never understood how powerful those sacrifices are. He used that magical protection that my mother had given me and extended it to my aunt, who was my mother's sister. So as long as I was living there, he couldn't get to me.

"Which is why he left me there for ten years."

Draco nodded. "I suppose that makes sense."

"It was the same brand of magic that saved my friends, and Neville. Because I died for them-"

"Wait, what?"

Harry cursed under his breath. He had never intended to reveal that particular secret. "Nothing, don't worry. Like I was saying-"

"No, hold up a minute. You're saying you _died_?"

"I thought your mother would have told you," Harry said honestly. Rather than sit back down at the table, he hoisted himself up to sit on one of the counters. It gave him a height advantage. And, he liked sitting on the counters.

"She didn't have chance to tell me much."

"Voldemort killed me." Harry waited for this information to sink in. "I came back though," he qualified.

"How- what- I don't understand."

Harry laughed humourlessly. "It took me about three years to understand everything."

"Does this have to do with my wand?"

"Oh dear. This is going to be a really, really long conversation," Harry groaned, thumping his head back against the cupboards.

Hours later, Harry started pulling food from the refrigerated pantry and started making a chilli. He had spent the best part of the afternoon explaining to Draco about Horcruxes and Hallows and dying but not really, and waiting for Draco to offer more information about what had happened at the Manor.

"Your mother saved my life, did she ever tell you that?" Harry said as he fried onions.

"No. I thought you died?"

It was part of his blunt nature- he didn't hold anything back- that Harry was starting to appreciate.

"I did die you insensitive prick. After that."

"Oh."

"She wanted to find you, and she said she'd never be allowed back up to the castle otherwise… so yeah."

"She didn't tell me," Draco repeated. "But there was a lot she didn't tell me, so I'm not really surprised."

"Don't _you_ hate _me_?" Harry asked curiously. "I mean, we did a lot of really horrible stuff to each other."

"I suppose I know what you mean. About not having the energy to hate people any more."

"Maybe hate is a bad word," Harry qualified. "Resent me, maybe?"

"Whatever game it is that you're playing, stop it," Malfoy snapped. "Don't use my feelings to justify your own."

He stomped out of the room and it was only with turning around that Harry noticed the surveillance charm was pulsing slightly, showing the now awake baby. He turned the heat down on the stove and leaned back against the counter.

Malfoy had obviously forgotten that Harry could watch him from the kitchen. It was slightly mesmerising, watching the cold, distant teenager turn gentle and caring as he changed the screaming baby, shushing and cooing at him as he vanished the dirty nappy and snapped on a clean babygrow. It was too early for a feed, but Draco hoisted Teddy up on to his shoulder and started to pace the room, rubbing his back and singing a song that Harry didn't recognise.

Maybe it was a cliché, but he seemed like a different person from the boy who'd thrived on their mutual hatred at school. Sure, the snobbish, argumentative side of him was still there, but still. He was changing. When Draco grabbed the baby seat in his spare hand and made to leave the room, Harry hastily grabbed a baguette and chucked it in the oven as well to warm through, making himself look busy.

"Smells good," he commented as he re-entered the kitchen. Harry supposed that was the most he could expect in the way of apologies.

"Thanks," he muttered and started heaping chilli and rice into two bowls, setting them on the table with the bread.

"I meant to ask before," Draco said as he tore his bread apart. "You know the basement downstairs?"

"Uh, no," Harry said. "There isn't a basement in this place."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yeah there is."

"Where?"

"Down there," he said with amusement, pointing below them. "I was wondering if I could turn it into a potions lab. I'm probably going to do my NEWT in Potions anyway. Distance learning, you know."

"I don't have a problem with you doing it," Harry said. He wiped up extra sauce with his bread. "But there isn't a basement down there."

"How many steps are there up to the front of this house?"

He sensed a trap. "I dunno. Eight?"

"Right. If there are eight steps up, what do you think is under the first floor? Level with the street?"

Harry, thankfully, was a step ahead of him. "You go down the steps into the kitchen."

"Right," Malfoy said with more amusement. "You go down two steps into the kitchen. Two, Potter. What about the other six?"

"Sirius would have shown me down there if there was a basement," Harry said, although his confidence was waning.

"Maybe he didn't know it was there either. It's a dump, Harry, it'll take some cleaning up. I just wanted to make sure it was okay with you."

"Yeah. Fine, go on, I don't care."

"Cool."

"When did you find it?"

"Last night," Draco said. He stood and collected both bowls, taking them to the sink.

"You don't sleep, do you?"

The glare he received was icy. "I sleep fine."

Although the topic of the basement/ Potions lab was dropped for the rest of that evening, it surfaced again the next morning over breakfast and the Muggle cereal Draco had delighted in.

"How the fuck did you get that lab put together so quickly?" Draco said, chasing a marshmallow shamrock around his bowl.

"I didn't," Harry protested. "I still haven't even been down there."

Draco rolled his eyes and dumped his bowl in the sink. He poked at the surveillance charm that followed both men around the house now; they'd learned that the little charm was actually surprisingly resilient and could be subjected to enlarging and shrinking, silencing and volume control, and could be told to follow them and would obediently bob along, just over their shoulder.

After checking that the sleeping child was in fact, still sleeping, Draco grabbed Harry by the wrist and dragged him to his feet.

"Come on," he insisted and headed for a back corner of the kitchen. There, next to the cupboard that Kreacher used to inhabit, was a small, arched doorway.

"That never used to be there," Harry said, suddenly unsure. The door was the same colour as the stone walls, low, indiscreet and undoubtedly boring. If Harry had been pressed, he would probably admit to thinking it lead to another cupboard or storeroom, such was its ability to blend into the background.

Draco rolled his eyes and pushed at the dusty handle.

"_Lumos_," he muttered, lighting his wand as they trudged down a dark, wooden staircase. Harry lit his wand too and stumbled over the bottom step. Malfoy sniggered.

The basement clearly ran the length of the house; dank, dusty and narrow. At either end of the room was a semi circular window which was level with the road but so covered in much and grime little light seeped through it. What was interesting, though, was a long table through the middle of the room that held five shiny black cauldrons, and cabinets that lined the full length of each wall, full of ingredients.

"Nope, never been down here before," Harry muttered.

"Well, all this shit wasn't here yesterday," Draco said. "The dirt was. But it was empty."

"I haven't got a clue where it came from then."

"Can you do one of those," Draco waved his arms emphatically, "You know, little orange cleaning thingies?"

"A vacuuming charm?"

"Yeah. Clean out the muck."

Harry cast several and let them bounce around the room. "I'll come back and let them out later, get a few new ones in," he explained.

They ascended to the kitchen in silence.

"You really don't know anything about the room?" Draco asked.

"No!" Harry huffed, exasperated. He went to the sink and started on the dishes. "So you're taking your NEWTs, then?"

"Just Potions," Draco qualified, grabbing a tea towel and drying the dishes Harry had washed. It was a shock, the first time his domesticity had come to light, but Harry was starting to get used to it.

"Did you get invited back to school?"

Draco snorted. "If you want to call it that."

"What?" Harry demanded, his hackles rising.

"Oh, chill out, Potter," Malfoy drawled. "I got the same generic invite as everyone else. They must have known I wasn't going back though."

"Not many people are," Harry said in an attempt to cover his embarrassment. "Hermione said only about twenty people were going back to repeat their seventh year."

"And you're not?"

"No."

"What are you going to do?"

Well, that was the million Galleon question. What exactly was Harry Potter going to do next?

"I haven't got a bloody clue," he admitted. "I was on the verge of calling McGonagall and going back to school just because I had nothing better to do when the call came about Andromeda. You?"

"I don't know either," the blonde man admitted. "I had a stern owl from my mother saying not to let the Manor fall into disrepair, and to keep my head down and my name out of the papers, but other than that…"

"It's not like you need to work," Harry said without thinking.

"You either," Malfoy bit back.

"I always wanted to be an Auror," Harry continued, ignoring the jibe.

"Not any more?"

"I don't think so."

"Okay, what would your perfect job be, if they handed it to you right now?"

Harry toyed with the end of his fork, thinking. "I suppose the only other thing I was any good at was Quidditch."

"I knew you were going to say that," Malfoy crowed.

"How about you?" Harry demanded, flushing pink. "Mr _doing a NEWT in Potions and nothing else._"

"Not just a NEWT, Potter, I've been accepted to do a BAT as well."

"A what?"

"A BAT, Potter."

"Never heard of it," Harry said, hopping up on to the counter.

"Don't suppose you would have," Malfoy said, sending all of the dishes back to their cupboards with a lazy swish of his wand.

"What does B, A, T stand for then?" Harry asked, hating that he didn't know.

"Bloody 'ard test," Draco deadpanned.

"Seriously."

"Brilliantly advanced," he said with a smirk. "It's the next level up from NEWT. Most people do them as part of their career, if they need to, it gives you the equivalent of a teaching certificate in that subject."

"Wow," Harry said. "So you're going to be a Potions Master, then?"

"God, no chance," Draco said. "When I applied to do the NEWT as distance learning they offered me the chance to do the BAT at the same time. It's probably going to take a couple of years to get both qualifications."

"Well, that makes sense, I suppose," Harry mumbled. He picked at a loose thread on the knee of his jeans until his snitch flitted into the room. He caught it lazily and stroked the gold metal with his thumb.

"I need something to stop me going bloody crazy," Draco qualified. "Unlike some people, I can't just sit around all day doing nothing."

"I don't do nothing all day," Harry snapped but Draco was already waving his words off.

"You're too sensitive," he smirked. "Don't get your knickers in a twist."

Harry glanced over at his _conspectus _charm and sighed. Teddy was starting to stir again.

"I've got it," he said. "You go back to your newts and bats and cats and snails."

"Snail," Draco snorted as Harry jumped down from the counter. "Good luck with coming up with an acronym for that."

Harry headed for the door, but was called back by Draco's "Oh, Potter?"

"What?" he said irritably.

"You need to watch Teddy tomorrow afternoon."

"Why?" he demanded, even though it wasn't a problem, particularly.

"Because it's Thursday tomorrow," Draco said as if he was speaking to a rather slow child.

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"I have somewhere to be on Thursday afternoons."

Harry studied the other man for long seconds. "To do what?"

"None of your business," Draco said, turning away from the penetrating gaze. "The baby's still crying, Harry."


	4. Purportedly Pregnant Pansies

_A/N: Apologies for the late running of this chapter, I'm sure you're all aware of being fanFAIL at the moment! I will update again on the weekend.  
I'm getting tattooed tomorrow! Woo hoo! Follow me on twitter/ tumblr... I'm sure I'll post a picture as soon as it's done.  
'Et Dona Ferentes' is also a poem by Rudyard Kipling. I doubt that will help you figure anything out, but it is where the inspiration for the story title came from. And since I'm a __**huge **__fan of Kipling's poetry, I really do urge you to read it. Please do keep theorising. I love what you've come up with so far!  
I'm sure there was something else I meant to say but I've forgotten now. I'll shut up and let you read instead. Bye! _

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Chapter 4- Purportedly Pregnant Pansies

It had been a long night of unrest for both Harry and Draco, which ended in Teddy sleeping in Harry's room for a couple of hours. He got sick of having to trudge across the hallway every half hour or so, so transferred the baby to a Moses basket and put him on the floor next to the bed. Finally, at about four in the morning, Harry managed to transfer him back to his crib and practically fell back into bed to sleep.

He woke, showered and got dressed only a few hours later, feeling that it was far too early to start the day but his body clock not allowing for any more sleeping time. He padded down the stairs barefoot, wearing only loose sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt.

"Where's Bear?" Draco mumbled around a mouthful of cereal as Harry made a cup of tea.

"Bear?" Harry asked, very amused and not bothering to hide it.

"It's a nickname," Draco said defensively. It didn't hide the blush creeping up his neck though.

"You nicknamed him Bear," Harry teased.

"His name is Teddy," Draco argued. "Teddy Bear is a perfectly acceptable nickname. I just never thought I'd let anyone hear me say it." The last few words were muttered under his breath.

Harry stayed silent, leaning back against the counter and waiting for Draco to incriminate himself further. Draco ran his fingers through his hair a few times, tousling the thick strands that fell obnoxiously back into his face.

"You never answered my question," Draco snapped.

"He's fine," Harry said. "We had a rough couple of hours this morning but he's sleeping now."

"I should go get him, feed him," Draco said, dumping his bowl in the sink.

"I don't think he needs it yet."

"But it's routine," Draco said, frowning deeply. "The books say that he needs a routine."

"He also needs to sleep," Harry responded stubbornly. "He only went down at about six, he's not ready to wake up yet."

"But he'll be hungry," Draco argued.

"Fine," Harry said, putting his hands up in a show of surrender. "But I need to get some sleep. So if he won't go back down don't come running to me to take him."

"Fine," Draco said, snatching one of the bottles they now kept under a permanent warming charm. Harry watched dispassionately as Draco took long strides out of the kitchen and up the stairs, waiting for the thin wails of the baby to drift down.

He made his tea instead of the usual coffee and filled a large mug with it, taking it back to bed. The temptation to look in on Draco and Teddy... _Bear_, he thought, amused, was strong, but if Draco thought he knew best then he'd leave him to it.

Sure enough, when he shut his door he could hear the crying through the _conspectus_ charm that neither man could live without these days. Harry sat in bed and watched Draco gently rocking Bear in the crook of his elbow, bouncing him and trying to get him to take the bottle. The baby was red faced and screaming now, the sounds tinny through the charm and Harry sighed, waving his wand to mute it.

He wanted to go and help... it was too hard to see both the baby and Draco distressed but he was exhausted, mentally and physically and the tea was warming him from the inside out, and before he really made a conscious decision to do so he was sliding down in bed, the empty mug falling to the floor with a thud, and without even taking his glasses off, Harry was asleep.

xXx

It took no time at all for the warmth of August to wane and it was with a frown that Harry noticed it was 30th August. In just two days Hermione and Ginny would be leaving on the train to go back to school. Ron and Neville had already started making the daily journey into the Auror office and although his conversations with his friends were brief and rushed, he got the impression that they were truly thriving in their new, improvised roles.

"It's insane, mate," Ron said from Harry's fireplace. "They're sending us to Peru this week."

"Who's 'us'?" Harry asked while trying to squash his jealousy.

"Me and Neville and this bloke called Stonestreet. He's a senior in the office, usually trains the new recruits."

"That's great," Harry said.

"Wish you were coming with us," Ron said, his smile faltering for the first time.

"Yeah, well. I have Teddy to worry about now."

"And Malfoy?"

"He's behaving himself. For the time being."

"You haven't killed him yet?"

"No. And stop sounding so hopeful every time you ask me that."

Ron snorted with laughter, spraying ash onto the rug. "Okay, well, don't be a stranger, okay? I'll call you when I get back."

Harry said his goodbyes and left the downstairs parlour with a sick feeling in his stomach as he trudged upstairs to the living room. It should be him joining his friends, working as an Auror and getting some recognition for all he'd done in the past few years. Instead, they were off having adventures in South America and he was stuck in a dingy house that hated him with an ex- Death Eater housemate and a four month old infant.

"You alright?" Draco asked as Harry flopped down on the sofa next to him.

"Ron's going to Peru."

Draco snorted. "Lucky Ron." It took a few moments for the reason for Harry's malaise to become apparent. "Ah. You want to go to Peru as well. It's fine, Potter, Peru's a dump."

"I don't to go sightseeing," Harry snapped.

"Just the usual saving the world malarkey?"

Harry ignored the jibe and lifted Bear from Draco's lap, lifting him above his head to make the baby giggle.

"Sod off, Malfoy."

"Wouldn't do that if I were you," Draco warned.

"Why not?"

Bear threw up all over Harry's t- shirt.

Draco snorted with laughter. "Because I just fed him."

It was one of those moments where Harry had the option of either being really fucking angry, or laughing until he cried. If he hadn't met Draco's eyes, he probably would have chosen the former.

"Fucking hell," he muttered and collapsed back onto the sofa with tears of laughter rolling down his cheeks. "I really, really fucking hate you."

Draco vanished the vomit for him but the smell lingered and some of it had caught his arm, too.

"Here, you take this," Harry said, passing the baby back to Draco. "I need to get changed."

"And showered," Draco called after him. Harry pulled his t- shirt off with one arm and threw it back at the sofa, greatly amused at the look of shock on the other man's face.

He took the opportunity to take a long, hot shower and change into tartan pyjama bottoms and an old, holey white t- shirt. Padding back down to the living room in bare feet, he listened to the familiar sounds of Draco reading to the baby, and wondered just when it was that this became familiar.

"I was thinking," Harry started as he took his place on the sofa again, moving Bear's squashy seat to the coffee table.

"Did it hurt?" Draco interrupted.

"Ha bloody ha. I'm going to take Bear down to King's Cross to see Hermione and Luna and Ginny off."

"Granger and the ex? That'll be fun."

Harry pulled a face. "She's still my friend. Sort of."

"Have you spoken to her since you broke up?" Draco demanded.

"Well no… There's going to be other people there too."

"Plenty of people. I thought we were supposed to be keeping this arrangement quiet."

"No, well, you didn't want people to know that you're living with me, which is fine. But there's nothing wrong with me taking my godson down to the goddamn train station to say goodbye to my friends."

"Calm down," Draco said mildly. "I thought you were worried about his hair changing colour."

"I'll put a hat on him."

"Look, Harry, I-"

"Please let me do this."

Draco's eyes levelled with his. "Okay, fine," he said after a moment, looking away and shaking his head. "Do what you want. I'm going for a shower."

xXx

It was undoubtedly strange, getting up on the morning of the first of September and not getting ready to go back to school, despite the fact that they hadn't done it the previous year, either. Maybe because last year there had been a plan, Harry mused as he brushed his teeth. This year he was living with Malfoy and raising a baby.

Fuck. No one would have predicted _that._

Draco had, as Harry had expected, made himself scarce. Bear wasn't bathed or dressed or fed, clearly Draco had no intentions of making things easy for him. Still.

Thankfully, Bear was in a pretty good mood as Harry changed him; he was growing quickly and they were already looking at having to go out and buy new clothes. As was their routine, Harry fed and changed the baby then dressed him in a lovely woolly jumper and jeans and tiny trainers that would leave lovely bruises when Bear kicked him in the ribs.

The hat was a gift from Molly and Harry made sure it tucked down over all of Bear's hair before they left the house. Another present from the Weasley family was a harness that Harry could wear over his shoulders, keeping the baby close to his chest as he made the short journey across London to the station. There was no way he'd be able to take a buggy on the Underground- his chosen method of transportation- not that they owned one, anyway.

There were plenty of familiar faces when he arrived at King's Cross which forced him to duck and weave through the crowds in search of his friends.

"Harry!" a voice yelled through the steam.

He turned with a frown and came up smiling as Seamus and Dean came barrelling into him.

"Hi," he laughed, carefully shielding Bear from the jostling.

"Holy shit, Harry, is he yours?" Seamus asked.

"Don't be daft. I'm his godfather, I'm just watching him today." _And tomorrow. And the day after,_ he added in his head. "When am I supposed to have had time to have a kid?"

"Ah, you never know mate, you're a popular guy," Seamus said with a wink.

"So you're not coming back?" Dean asked.

"Nah," Harry shook his head. "I couldn't."

"I didn't want to, you know," Seamus said. "But me 'Mam insisted."

"Harry!"

Another voice caused him to turn and he said his goodbye to his former roommates, smiling as he swept Luna into a hug.

"Luna, you look great," he said, kissing her forehead.

"Ooh, who's baby?" she asked, smoothing Bear's soft cheek.

"He's my godson," Harry repeated.

"He's lovely."

"Yeah, he's alright."

He spotted Hermione over Luna's shoulder and wished her luck for the year ahead at school, then made a beeline for her.

"You," Hermione said, poking him in the shoulder. "I haven't seen you nearly enough this summer."

"I missed you too," he said, laughing and embracing her. "Are you all set, Miss Head Girl?"

Hermione blushed prettily. Her badge was pinned to her cardigan. HG. Head Girl. Hermione Granger. Some things just _fit._

"I think so," she said. "I've been here for ages. Before the train pulled in, even."

"Is Ron coming?" he asked. Then felt terrible for not knowing.

"Yeah, he's bringing Ginny down," Hermione said, examining his face for any flicker of emotion. "Are you going to be alright?"

"I'll be fine," he said, waving off her concern. "We're all grown ups. At least, I think we are."

She nodded and patted his arm, weaving off through the crowd to go and do... whatever it was that she needed to do. Harry suddenly remembered something and called out after her.

"What?" she called back.

"Come here," he said, laughing. "I have gossip for you," he added in a low voice when she was back by his side.

Her face lit up. "Oh?"

"But if you're too busy with your Head Girl duties..."

"Spill it, Potter," she demanded with a smirk.

"Okay." He was delighted to be the one to share this with her. "Guess who's pregnant?"

"I don't know, who?" she whispered back.

"No, Hermione, _guess,_" he reiterated.

"Someone in our year?"

"Yup."

She frowned, clearly unhappy with not knowing before he did. "I don't know."

"Pansy Parkinson," he supplied.

"Oh my gosh," she said, her fingertips covering her lips but not disguising her glee. "Who's the father? Draco?"

"No, he's..." Harry stopped himself before he could say 'he's gay'. "He said people think it's him, but it's not."

"Oh, that's precious," Hermione giggled. "Thanks for that."

"No problem."

He hugged her again and she left, leaving Harry alone for the first time since he'd arrived.

He was trying desperately hard not to think about where he was too much, but the King's Cross in his head and the one in the real world, if he was going to call it that, were very different. Of course, it was the same building, the high, arched windows and beautiful stone masonry, but this King's Cross held none of the peace and serenity of _his_ King's Cross. This one was full of life and children and laughter and crying...

_Just how it's supposed to be,_ his subconscious helpfully supplied.

Impulsively, he leaned down and kissed Bear's head.

As he straightened up he spotted three red heads through the crowd and steeled himself against the uncomfortable knotting sensation in his stomach. It wasn't that his breakup with Ginny had been truly awful, it was just awkward, truth be told. She didn't tell him anything he didn't know already, and he could never live up to the expectations she had for him.

Ginny was a beautiful girl and deserved someone who would be there for her with a whole heart and able to give her all the love and support she needed to come to terms with her grief and loss. Harry wasn't that man. And he was okay with that.

"Hey," Harry said to Ron who was flanking Ginny on one side, George on the other. He smiled at the others and George started to lump Ginny's trunk into one of the carriages.

"How's it going? Killed him yet?"

Harry laughed and decided that this was likely to become Ron's standard greeting. "Nah, not yet," he said.

"He's not here, is he?" Ron asked, looking around through the crowds.

"Nope. He's at home. Sulking, I think."

"Ah, let him be then, the miserable bugger," Ron said dismissively. "You alright? Teddy okay?"

"Yes and yes," he said. "Can't help but wish I was going to Peru..."

Ron shook his head. "I don't know, mate. I wish you were coming too. I wish she was, more."

Harry followed his eyes to where Hermione was directing First Years onto the train. "It's going to be weird, this year, with all of us split up."

"Yeah, it is," he said wistfully. Then shrugged. "It's gonna be alright."

"'Course it is."

Ginny hopped down from the train as Dean and Seamus headed over to say hello to Ron; Harry took the opportunity to reach a hand out to her, the other one resting lightly on Bear's back. Her features hardened for a moment before she took it.

Harry lead her over to a bench and she sat next to him in silence. A very awkward silence.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

Ginny shrugged. "Coping, I suppose."

"School really is the best place for you, you know. There's going to be grief counselling set up for anyone who needs it."

"I know. Hermione told me."

"Will you go?"

She heaved a sigh and shrugged. "Dunno. 'Spose so. Not going to do me any harm, is it?"

A whistle sounded from deep within the station and activity on the platform stepped up a notch as parents started dishing out last minute rules and instruction, kisses and promises to write. Ron had caught up with Hermione at last and she was in his arms, her legs around his waist as he kissed her soundly. The sight made him smile longingly.

"I've got to go," Ginny said, standing. Harry stood too.

"Don't forget me, okay?" Harry implored. "I really do want to stay friends."

"Let's see what happens, yeah?" she said, looking up at him with the wide eyes that once, he'd thought he was in love with.

"Yeah, okay," he agreed, letting her go. "Don't destroy my Quidditch team!" he called after her.

All along the platform doors were slamming shut. He thought she'd gone until she pushed down the sash window and stuck her head out through it, smiling.

"I won't!" she promised.

On the second whistle the train started to move as hundreds of hands stuck out of open widows, waving goodbye.

Harry was left standing next to George who turned and looked at Bear.

"Can I?" he asked and Harry was confused for a moment before realising what he wanted.

"Oh. Sure," he said, lifting the baby from the harness.

George pulled a face at Bear who immediately giggled.

"He's awesome," George enthused.

"Sometimes," Harry corrected. "He's awesome sometimes."

"You should come over to the shop sometime," George said, bouncing the baby lightly. "We're up and running again now."

"I really should," Harry said as the platform started to clear of parents and family, Apparating away or waiting to go through to the main station once more.

"Shit, it's weird to be here like this," Ron said, surveying the platform that was starting to look more and more like the King's Cross in Harry's head.

"Right?" George agreed.

"You know where I live," Harry said to them both. "I should really get back."

"Don't let the bastards grind you down!" George said with a small smile as Harry slid Bear back into the harness.

"You too, mate. Have a good time in Peru, Ron."

He left before the pain in his chest could grow any tighter, and spent most of the journey home trying to put a name on it. He was going to miss his friends, the ones who had been right by his side since he was eleven years old. All he had left was a tentative civility with a childhood nemesis and a baby child whose hair changed colour and made him believe that he had a purpose.

_There has to be more than this,_ Harry thought as he passed Camden Town underground station. _There just has to be._

xXx

It was Harry's turn to take the first shift of the night and he resented it greatly as Bear's whimpering cries floated through his _conspectus_ charm. He hadn't slept properly since going to bed early, too tired to stay up at just gone ten in the evening. Now, at two in the morning, he hadn't slept properly at all and felt too groggy to be able to handle the child.

"Coming, coming," he grumbled to the darkness as he groped for his wand and padded out down the hallway.

The routine was becoming more familiar now, lifting Bear from his crib and rocking him until his sniffles subsided, then changing and settling down with his bottle. Harry thought that the baby was getting better control of his abilities now, especially when it came to changing colour to suit his moods. When Harry would rock him, Bear would fix brown eyes on green and slowly, morph the colour to match Harry's. It was, Harry thought, his own special little way of communicating.

Despite his lethargy, Harry managed to get Bear sleeping again with the minimum amount of fuss and rubbed his tired eyes with his fists as he made his way back to bed. As was his habit, he paused in the doorway outside Draco's room, not that he ever heard any sign of life from within. The sheets were cool when he slipped between them and he snuggled down, trying to seek out any residual warmth.

He was drifting in the strange, ethereal space between awake and asleep when he was woken by a series of loud banging noises. Harry struggled awake and was more alert than he had been all day with the threat of imminent attack. He slammed his glasses back on his face and flew across to his bedroom door, flinging it open and pressing his back against the wall to remove himself from the line of fire.

"_Expelliarmus,_" he whispered, not wanting his potential attacker to know his position. Nothing happened, although the banging, which he now identified as doors in the house, continued. "_Homono Revellium,_" he tried, a useful spell Hermione had taught him.

Again, nothing, apart from the two sleeping figures that he knew should be there.

Harry crept out into the hall, keeping close to the walls and immediately went to Bear's room to check on the baby. He was still sleeping peacefully, seemingly unaware of the banging and crashing around him. As he crossed to Draco's door and grasped the doorknob, the house fell silent.

He was more than a little creeped out as he pushed the door open. Draco was clearly in distress; the bedsheets were tangled around his legs and his long sleeved t- shirt stuck to his body with sweat, his skin was ashen and he cried out as the nightmare gripped him and his hands fisted in the covers.

For a moment Harry wondered why he hadn't been woken up by all the thrashing about Draco has clearly been doing, then it dawned on him that Draco likely kept a silencing spell on the door, which would explain why he never heard any noise from the room. Quietly and carefully, Harry made his way to the bed and shook Draco's shoulder.

"Hey. Wake up, mate."

Draco sobbed in his sleep, but didn't wake up.

"Draco. Please. Wake up." His voice was louder now. Another violent shove to his shoulder and Draco woke with a startled gasp and scrambled backwards on the bed, away from the offending push. "Sorry," Harry offered.

"Get out," Draco whispered. "Get the fuck out."

"Calm down," Harry said in the soothing voice he'd developed when taking to the baby. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Draco shivered violently and Harry stood slowly, not wanting to startle him and crossed to the wardrobe to find a jumper. He pulled out a dark blue sweatshirt and passed it across. It wasn't cold in the room, not by any means, but it looked like the cold sweats and shakes had finally taken hold.

"Okay?" Harry asked as Draco pulled the sweatshirt over his head and pulled the hood up for good measure.

He nodded silently.

"Nightmare?"

"Well spotted, Potter," he spat and Harry allowed himself a small smile. Some things would never change.

"It's okay. I used to get them too."

"Used to?"

Harry wasn't sure what Draco's tone meant, but it was the start of a conversation at least. "Yeah. I don't have them any more."

"I didn't realise you were so perfect and immortal that you don't even get nightmares any more."

"It's not that," Harry said in the same even voice. "I just lived all of my nightmares. There's nothing left to scare me any more."

At that, Draco fell silent. It was a variation of the truth; Harry didn't get nightmares _all_ the time any more. He barely remembered his dreams at all.

"I'm not scared," Draco said defiantly, after a few moments.

"Okay."

"You don't get bad dreams at all?"

"I do, sometimes, but nowhere near like what I used to have."

"When… when the Dark Lord was possessing you?"

"He never possessed me," Harry said carefully. "He just took advantage of a certain connection between us."

"Was it bad?"

"Pretty bad, yeah." Harry shivered and Draco looked at him curiously. Without saying anything, he shifted over in the double bed, allowing room for Harry to slip under the duvet, although Draco remained sitting with his long, bare legs crossed atop a pillow like an Arabian prince.

Equally as silently, Harry took the olive branch and pulled the covers up to his waist.

"What do you dream about?" Harry asked as soon as he was settled.

Draco picked at the corner of the duvet. "About… when he was living at the Manor. About Bellatrix and the mind games she used to play… About my mother."

"Was it bad?" Harry echoed. "When he was living with you?"

"I learned Occlumency so quickly," Draco said, still not meeting Harry's questioning gaze. "You can't lie to him, he sees right through you, he knows all of your darkest secrets and uses them against you…"

"He's gone, Draco," Harry said softly. "He's not here any more."

"I know that," Draco snapped. His voice softened again as he continued: "He took _everything,_ Even when I thought we had nothing left to give him, he still tried to take more."

"Tell me more about Bellatrix."

"I don't know what else to say."

"You were an only child, and she didn't have any children, right?"

Draco nodded. "My mother had complications with me that meant she couldn't have any more babies after me. And Aunt Bella…"

He shuddered so violently that Harry worried, for a moment, that he might be having a seizure. Instead the other man crawled under the covers and sat facing the still open door and the gentle light coming in from the hallway.

"She didn't have any children, no. My Uncle Rodolphus was fanatical but in a cold detached, determined sort of way whereas Aunt Bella was loud and obnoxious and obscure in the things she did in the Dark Lord's name." Harry wanted to mention the awful things that Lucius had done but thought better of it. "I thought at first that they hated each other - they were a pure- blood match, not a love match and he's probably a second cousin of hers somewhere along the line. They had sex all the time though. It was awful, you could hear them all over the place screaming and grunting in the parlour or the entrance hall, never in their bedroom. It was disgusting."

"Could she not have children?"

"Oh no, she could conceive," Draco said quietly. "She learned, from God only knows where, how to self- abort whenever she fell pregnant."

"She- she killed her own children?" Harry said, horrified.

"Yeah. All the time. My mother used to beg her not to do it, promised to raise the child as her own every time it happened, but it never made any difference. She killed them anyway."

He was starting to feel sick to his stomach, but Harry had a strange compulsion to keep listening. "Why?"

"She used to say that being pregnant would mean she couldn't fight for the cause any more. She never wanted to be seen as weak or helpless. But I think she was probably hoping to one day have the Dark Lord's child."

"The idea of any child that the two of them could create…"

"I know. But it never happened."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah," Draco nodded. "Don't worry. I would have killed it myself if she ever managed it."

"That's just beyond… anything I could have ever thought of."

"I know. And now, well, so do you."

"I never thought you had it easy, you know," Harry said carefully. "You probably had it worse than me at times."

Draco scoffed. "Yeah, right."

"No, I'm serious. The pressure you were under, and at such a young age. I can't believe your parents let it happen to you."

"Well, my father was in jail and my mother was in no position to try and help me," Draco said. "I was supposed to die trying."

"I know that you wouldn't have killed Dumbledore."

"Really," Draco said evenly.

"Yeah. I was there, on the Astronomy tower."

"No you fucking weren't."

"I was," Harry insisted. "Under my father's invisibility cloak."

"Okay. It doesn't make any difference now anyway."

The silence was broken my a muffled cry that Harry heard simultaneously through the open door and Draco's surveillance charm.

"I'll go," he said immediately, only then realising how long he'd been sat in Draco's bed.

An arm shot out and stopped his progress. "Don't leave me," Draco said in a panicked voice.

"I'll bring him back in here, yeah?" Harry said, not wanting to make a big deal of this sign of weakness. Draco nodded, embarrassed, and Harry left.

Bear didn't need changing and it was too early for another feed. Draco and Harry, clearly, weren't the only ones having trouble sleeping in 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry moved the fussy baby to his shoulder and, keeping his promise, carried him back over to the room across the hall.

Draco had removed his sweatshirt and was once again lying down in bed, the duvet pulled up to his chin, his grey eyes shining in the darkness. Harry tugged a space between the two pillows on the bed and gently set Bear down between them and took his own side of the bed.

This was new. Bear had never slept in the bed with either of them, as far as Harry was aware. He looked intrigued for a moment, as intrigued as it was possible for a child to look, then yawned widely making both Draco and Harry smile.

As Harry caught Draco's eyes, he thought it might be the first sign of a genuine smile he'd ever seen grace his lips. Too soon, though, it was gone. Draco tucked both of his hands up under the pillow and watched as Harry mirrored his position. They would sleep facing each other, their tiny ward kept safe between them.

* * *

_A/N: I will hasten to add, the view 'Peru is a dump' is not one held by me, nor Draco, really. In his own special way Draco is trying to be reassuring. No offence is meant to the people of Peru. If you are reading from South America, hello from England!_


	5. The Crup & Duck

_A/N: The title of this chapter and the pub it refers to is dedicated to my local, _The Dog & Duck,_ where many a lovely Sunday lunch, Friday night post- work drinks and Saturday afternoon watching the football has been spent. In fact, I might go down there in a bit. Hair of the crup that bit you, and all that. (I'm this much of a loser in RL too. JSYK.)  
__Twitter and Tumblr girlies who rec my stuff make me giddy. Hello vampireisthenewblack!  
And I've remembered what it was I meant to ask last time: I seemed to have developed a rather unhealthy yearning for some Harry/ Charlie Weasley slash. Don't judge- please just rec me something before I go mad. Kind regards, HFS xx_

* * *

Chapter 5 The Crup & Duck

There was a light tapping on the kitchen window and Harry looked up from where he had a sleeping Bear tucked in the crook of his elbow. He got to his feet carefully, trying not to jostle the baby, and crossed to the window to take the letter from the owl who was almost certainly a grown up Pig.

Ron was back from… wherever he'd been since Peru, Harry supposed as he read the short note, and he wanted to meet up for a drink. Harry smirked to himself, thinking of how deliciously moody Draco would be at having to stay home and babysit while he went to the pub.

There was a slight smell of burning coming from the open door to the basement as Harry trudged down the stairs, noting with amusement how even while sleeping, Bear's hair turned violet in protest to the smell. There were other smells too; mint and smoke and… baby powder? What the hell was Draco brewing?

"What the hell are you brewing?" Harry asked from half way up the stairs.

Draco jumped but signalled for him to shush as he methodically counted stirring the potion before him. Harry sat down at the bench facing him and gently bounced the baby because his arm was falling asleep. He was growing quickly.

"NEWT stuff," Draco said eventually as he stoked the flames under his cauldron.

"I got a letter just now."

"Bully for you," Draco muttered as he poured over the textbook.

"It was from Ron. He wants to meet me tonight for a drink."

"So… what? You want me to watch Bear for the whole evening?"

"Well I'm not taking him to the pub," Harry said.

"Fine. But you owe me one."

"One what?"

"I don't know yet, do I," Draco huffed, exasperated. "I'll let you know when I decide."

Harry watched for a while in amused silence as Draco worked on three potions simultaneously; one of which was clearly Polyjuice but Harry wasn't about to tell him he'd forgotten the lacewing flies. The moment of comprehension as it dawned on Draco that he'd messed up the potion was comical - to say the least.

"Oh bollocks!" he spat.

"Lacewing flies," Harry said knowledgably.

"You git! You knew I'd missed them!"

Harry shrugged. "I'm not supposed to help. You made that perfectly clear last week."

"That's because you weren't _helping,_ you were _annoying_ me," Draco growled as he vanished the potion. "Now I have to start over."

Something swooped in Harry's stomach as he recognised one of the two remaining potions. "Is that Amortentia?"

"Uh, yeah," Draco muttered. "And it's being annoying," he directed to his cauldron, as if the potion cared.

"What's the third one?"

"It's a variation of Dreamless Sleep modified to be suitable for infants."

"Interesting."

"Yeah. So where are you going tonight?"

"Um… _The Crup and Duck?_"

Draco snorted. "Trust Weasley to pick that dive."

"Don't start," Harry warned him.

"Not saying a word," Draco said innocently, raising both his hands in mock- surrender.

Bear started to stir and Harry slid off the stool to go and make him some lunch. "Do you want anything to eat?"

"I'll be up in a bit," Draco said. Harry didn't believe him. Draco's definition of 'a bit' could be anything from five minutes to three hours.

Harry had to yell down to the basement three times to get Draco to come up for dinner. He used this as an excuse to get the other man to wash up and tidy up the kitchen, something Draco would probably have done anyway. It was becoming clear that Draco wasn't doing the cleaning because he felt he should, rather, he couldn't stand the mess. Harry usually let him get on with it. They hadn't tackled the issue of splitting the household chores; it was easier to just do what needed to be done and leave it at that. Discussing it would have likely ended in an argument.

"What does 'I open at the close' mean?"

Harry's head snapped up from were he's been playing with Bear on the floor in the living room. Draco was stood, leaning against the doorframe, as was his habit, with his arms folded across his chest.

"What?" he demanded.

"'I open at the close'. It's engraved on this snitch." Draco opened his hand and wings sprouted from the little golden ball; the snitch happily flew back to Harry, who was starting to believe that the ball had developed some kind of attachment to him.

Harry rolled his neck on his shoulders, shrugging off the tension that had gathered there. "It's something that Dumbledore put on there for me. It was a message."

"Oh." Silence. "What for?"

"Oh Draco, it's a long story, would you leave it for now?" Harry sighed.

"Sure," Draco agreed lightly. "I swear that thing likes you more than he likes me."

"Bear? Or the snitch?" Harry asked, amused again.

"The snitch, you idiot. We both know Bear likes me more. Don't you?" he said to the baby, joining them both on the floor and pulling one of his NEWT revision books on to his lap.

Bear gurgled happily as Draco tickled his tummy.

"I didn't know that snitches could develop attachments to people," Harry said conversationally, aware, once again, of his lack of knowledge in wizarding culture.

"I don't see why not," Draco said. "Most of the time they're only ever used once, in professional games, anyway. I had one when I was a kid that wouldn't let anyone other than me catch it. It was great, whenever I played with Blaize he would go nuts because I always won."

"I didn't know you grew up with Zabini."

"Yeah. Our mother's were good friends."

"Where do you go on Thursdays and Saturdays?" Harry asked casually.

"None of your business," Draco said lightly. He licked the pad of his thumb and turned a page.

"Seriously, Draco? You don't trust me enough to tell me?"

"It's not a matter of trust," Draco said. He hadn't yet met Harry's eyes. "It's one of privacy."

Harry huffed and hoisted Bear to his shoulder. "You disappear twice a week. I don't go anywhere."

"That's true. It's not fair at all. You tell me the two afternoons a week you want for yourself and I'll make sure I can take him."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"No, no, Harry, you're completely right. I get time out of the house so you should get the same."

"Draco," Harry said warningly. "Don't mess with me on this."

Draco rolled his eyes, marked his page in his book and set it down on the arm of the chair. "Why is it such a big deal? Because I won't tell you?"

"No," Harry lied.

"Then what?"

"I don't think we should keep things from each other."

"Please, Harry. We know a lot more about each other than we ever have before, but that's not to say you know all of my dark and dirty secrets."

"You have dark and dirty secrets?"

Draco laughed and threw his hands up in exasperation. "You're incorrigible."

"Fine. Sundays and Friday nights."

"Ooh. Cheeky."

"You didn't specify which days I could choose," Harry said, sensing a small victory and grabbing it.

"Fine. I don't do anything anyway."

"Nothing apart from Thursdays and Saturdays."

"Exactly. Bear's asleep."

Harry looked down and, true enough, Bear was breathing deeply and slowly turning his hair pale pink.

"His mum always used to wear her hair pink." He gently smoothed the fine, soft hair back from Bear's forehead, wishing that Tonks was still there to see how wonderful her son was.

"Yeah. Andromeda told me."

"We should really go and see her, you know," Harry said. He should also really go and put Bear in his crib, but the weight of the sleeping child on his chest was reassuring, comforting. He stood and sat up on the sofa to stop his legs from going numb from being folded underneath his crossed legs. Draco hoisted himself up and sat next to Harry.

"I spoke to one of the Healers at St Mungo's yesterday."

"Nice of you to share," Harry said sarcastically.

"Sorry, I forgot to tell you," Draco said sounding entirely unconcerned. "There's not been any change in her condition. They're keeping her stable, but whatever the curse was is preventing them from bringing her back to consciousness again."

"It sounds nasty," Harry said, now rubbing slow, comforting circles on Bear's back.

"Yeah."

"Do they have any idea on who might have targeted her?"

Draco sighed. "No. I wish the Aurors would talk to me, but no one at the Ministry trusts me."

"That's ridiculous."

"Really?"

"Yeah, of course." Harry frowned. "I mean, for all they know you might be able to help."

Draco sat back and brought his feet up to rest on the edge of the cushion he was sat on, wrapping his arms around his knees. "Do you think? I mean, I could know something that I don't even know is helpful until they ask."

"Exactly. I'll talk to Ron. He might be able to talk to his boss and figure something out."

Draco nodded but looked unconvinced.

"Do you have... anyone? To talk to, I mean?"

"Fuck off, Potter."

Harry scowled. "You fuck off. I'm trying to help you, you insensitive prick."

"I don't need your help. Or your friendship. We're in this because both of us are too stubborn to back down."

"No, we _got_ into this because we're both too stubborn to back down. I think we're _both_ still in this for another reason."

"What reason would that be then?" Draco asked sarcastically.

"Where are all of your friends, Draco?"

"Where are all of your friends, Harry?" Draco mimicked in a baby voice.

"At school. Working." He paused. "Dead. Some of them are dead."

Draco let out a ragged breath. "Some of my friends are at school. Some of them are working. Some of them are dead."

"See. We have more in common than you think."

"Prison."

"None of my friends are in prison," Harry acquiesced.

"Goyle?"

"Yeah. Greg's in Azkaban. With my parents."

"What about Blaize? And Pansy?"

"Pansy's knocked up, you know that. Blaize is hiding out somewhere, one of his parent's estates in Ireland. He's probably playing the stock market and adding to their millions." Draco tipped his head to one side. "Vince is dead. Theo went back to school."

It was the cool '_Vince is dead'_ that got to Harry. He could barely talk about Fred, or Remus or Tonks or Sirius or even Snape, the miserable old bastard, without feeling choked up. Draco didn't seem to care. Or, if he did, he was very good at hiding it.

"How can you not care?" Harry asked.

"Who says I don't care?"

Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes. "You don't sound like you fucking care. You don't _look_ like you fucking care."

Draco stood, walked the length of the room, then returned to his seat. "I changed so much over the past few years I barely know what normal is any more. Not one of my so called friends trusted me, and why should they? Being close to me was dangerous. I was dangerous. Now, what do they have to gain by being friends with me? I'm fucked up, Harry, you know that. I'm an ex- Death Eater who never wanted to do the things he did, who was forced and tortured into hurting other people and now I'm left with a nephew and an estranged, cursed aunt in a coma while every fucking other person I've ever known tries to pretend I don't exist.

"So you wonder why I stopped caring? Because it's too fucking painful to care, Potter. It's too fucking painful to care."

Draco stood and Apparated away.

xXx

It was a Friday night, so _The Crup and Duck _was pretty packed. Ron had found a table in an out of the way corner, partially obscured by a large, very unhealthy looking pot plant.

"Cheers," Harry said, sinking down in the seat opposite his best friend and clinking one bottle of Butterbeer against another. "How's it going?"

"Good," Ron said with an easy smile. "We only got in late last night. But it went well."

"Have you spoken to Hermione yet?" Harry asked, absorbing the amber liquid with great enthusiasm. It was great to be out of the house and away from all of the responsibilities his life had taken on recently.

"Fire called her this morning," Ron said. "Going up to see her tomorrow."

"I should call her," he said with a sigh.

"She's busy," Ron said. "About to get busier." He winked.

"Seriously, Ron? Didn't need to know that."

Ron laughed easily. "Come on. It's been years. We're allowed to be stupidly in love with each other."

"I never thought I'd live to hear you say that." Harry took another long pull from his bottle.

"You kill Malfoy yet?"

"No. I don't think I want to any more, either."

Ron surveyed him, frowning, as he drank. "Really?"

"Yeah. The guy is as messed up as the rest of us. But the rest of us have each other, and his friends are either dead or in Azkaban or not talking to him any more."

"You sound worried about him."

Harry thought it was a testament to how far Ron had come that he wasn't mocking Draco for his problems. Maybe it was Hermione's positive influence, or working with the Auror office and trying to do some good in the world, but he really did seem to have let old grievances go.

"I am," Harry admitted. "I mean, not when it comes to Bear, he's fine about that..."

"About who?" Ron said, snorting with laughter.

Harry blushed. "It's, ah, a nickname. Bear. You know. Like Teddy Bear."

"You fucking sap."

"Yeah. Anyway. He disappears on Thursdays and Saturday afternoons and he won't tell me where he goes."

Ron kicked one ankle over his knee as he sat back, thinking. "Probation meetings?"

"Every week?"

"Hmm. Maybe. It depends how closely they're watching him."

"I thought Hermione said the Auror office is tracking where he goes and who he sees."

"Yeah. They are." Ron emptied his bottle of Butterbeer. "Another?"

"Something stronger?" Harry said wryly.

Ron nodded and Harry passed money across for the next round, Ron silently took the Galleon, understanding that Harry didn't want the fuss that would invariably come if he went to the bar himself.

"Are you coming to lunch on Sunday?" Ron asked when he returned with two pints of something. "Mum told me to tell you. Neville's coming, and Hermione. She's got permission to leave school at the weekends if she wants to."

"Just Hermione?" Harry asked. Ron seemed to get the unspoken question and nodded.

"Yeah. Head Girl privileges."

"Yeah, I'll be there," Harry agreed. "I've negotiated with Malfoy. He's gonna babysit on Sundays for me anyway."

"Okay, advance warning, mate, if you don't bring that baby the girls will go mental at you. I'd say he's the only reason you've got an invite, but I think Mum wants to fuss over you just as much as him."

Harry chuckled and sipped at the pint. Decided he wasn't going to ask, and just drink it.

"Okay. That's fine. Draco's doing his NEWT anyway, I guess he'll be alright with being on his own for a couple of hours."

"He's doing a NEWT? In what?"

"Guess," Harry said dryly.

"Potions?"

"Of course. He's turned my basement into a Potions lab."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "You don't have a basement."

"Thank you!" Harry exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "I knew it! But Draco found it and turned it into a lab. I don't really care, because I wasn't using it anyway, but it just pissed me off because I didn't even know it was there."

"Do you reckon he's visiting his parents?" Harry's head reeled for a moment at the sudden change in the conversation. It might have has something to do with the alcohol, too. He didn't drink much. Except when he was in Ron's presence. The Weasley boys certainly knew how to drink.

"In Azkaban?" Harry clarified.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Yeah. That's where they are, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Last time I checked."

"Would make sense," Ron shrugged.

"Maybe," Harry said slowly. "Maybe."

It was still nagging him the next day when he packed up Bear for his trip to The Burrow. Draco had practically ignored him when Harry had tried to explain the change in plan over breakfast, and had disappeared back down to his basement as soon as the dishes were put away.

Harry had wanted to know how Bear had behaved the night before while he was out, if Draco coped okay when only short weeks before he had insisted he wasn't left alone with a child he didn't know how to care for. But Draco was unforthcoming, to say the least, and Harry decided to drop it for the sake of his own sanity.

Apparating with a baby was easier than Flooing, even if the former did tend to upset Bear slightly. Harry arrived in the garden of The Burrow with Bear strapped to his front and a backpack full of baby things on his back, looking forward to catching up with his friends again.

The back door was flung open and Molly was soon framed in it, calling to him and gesturing for him to come in. Harry broke out in a smile and took long strides to her, catching her up in his arm in a hug and a kiss on her head.

"It's good to see you, Molly," he said.

"Let me look at you," she demanded, pulling back and grabbing his upper arms. "You're not sleeping properly."

"Of course I'm not," he laughed. "This little monster doesn't sleep through yet."

"Oh, the twins didn't sleep through 'til they were nearly a year old," Molly said, ushering him in. "I was sure they woke up just to wind me up."

Ron and Hermione were sat at the kitchen table with mugs of tea; George looked up from the sink where he was peeling vegetables.

"Alright, Harry?" he called.

Nimble, female hands worked the straps of the harness off and pulled Bear from Harry's chest and he realised that Ron was absolutely right. He probably wouldn't see Bear again until it was time to leave.

Hermione hoisted Bear up on to her shoulder and left to walk him around the garden; Harry sank gratefully down into one of the mismatched chairs around the dining table and accepted a mug of tea.

"She'll be wanting one of her own, soon," George told Ron, teasing him.

"No she bloody well won't," Ron retorted.

"Language," Molly reprimanded lightly.

"Where's Neville?" Harry asked.

"On his way," Ron said.

It was an odd sort of Sunday dinner, devoid of certain characters Harry was used to seeing with the addition of a few others. A debate raged on where George was going to live now he'd decided to move back to London; Hermione was insisting he move into Ostrich Court with her and Ron, which he wasn't keen on. Molly was desperately trying to get him to stay at home, and Neville, who had moved into the flat over Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, was offering to move back out again.

It was, in short, a mess.

"I've got space," Harry said around a mouthful of green beans, "If you want to move in with me and Bear and Malfoy."

"Oh for god's sake," Ron groaned, banging his head against the table.

"Thanks for the offer mate, but no thanks," George said with a smile. "I'll leave you and old ferret breath to it."

"To what?" Neville asked.

"To whatever it is that you're doing," George said lasciviously.

"George," Molly said and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Seriously?" Harry said. "It's _Malfoy,_ George. Remember him? Miserable git who made our lives hell at school?"

"I reckon he fancies you," George opined.

"George!" Molly exclaimed, again.

The knowledge of Draco's dark secret, his '_I'm gay, Potter' _and the implications of that confession that Harry had never really considered all combined made Harry choke.

"Here," Hermione said, passing a jug of water. "That wasn't very nice, George."

Ron snickered into his potatoes.

"You're all a bunch of perverts," Harry said, earning him his own glare from Molly. It was worth it.

xXx

The house was silent when Harry returned, packed up with enough leftovers to make at least one more meal for he and Draco to share. It shouldn't have surprised him any more, Draco's ability to creep around the house without being heard, but the silence was always a little unnerving.

Rather than trying to track down his housemate, who was almost certainly in a bad mood, Harry took Bear upstairs and bathed and changed him, putting him down to sleep before heading down to the kitchen.

Draco was sat on one of the counters, nibbling on a cracker and sipping black coffee.

"Hi," Harry said with a small smile as he unpacked the leftovers to put them in the fridge.

"Hi," Draco responded.

"What did you get up to today?"

Draco shrugged. "Worked for a while. Read some."

"Did you eat yet? There's plenty here if you want a meal."

"No thanks."

"No you haven't eaten, or no you don't want anything?" Harry pressed.

Draco sighed heavily and stretched his arms over his head. "No, I haven't eaten. And no, I don't want anything."

"Draco," Harry said nervously, rocking from foot to foot and looking anywhere except at the man in front of him. "Draco you're... you're really skinny."

Draco snorted in derision but Harry continued on regardless.

"You are. Please listen to me. You're not skinny in a 'I'm slim and it suits me' kind of way. You're skinny in a 'I'm really undernourished' kind of way.

"No wait, listen to me," he said desperately, flinging an arm out to stop Draco's escape as he hopped down from the counter and tried to dodge past Harry to the door. "I know this because... because... oh fuck it. I didn't get fed properly when I was a kid. My cousin got twice as much food as me and he still stole half of mine. I know what it looks like when you're not getting enough food in your body. Six years at boarding school playing Quidditch and three square meals a day kind of countered the six weeks I spent every summer going fucking hungry, Malfoy, so please, please don't give me that look which says you don't think I know what I'm talking about."

Draco shook his head. "So I'm underweight. So what? Why is this your problem, Potter?"

"Because, you miserable motherfucker, I care about you, okay?"

"Why?" he looked more distressed at this than at any other confession or admission he'd heard so far.

"I don't know. Because you saved my life? Because someone clearly needs to look after you?"

"I can take care of myself," Draco said immediately.

"No, you can't," he said softly. "And that's okay, you know. You don't have to be Superman."

"What?"

"Never mind," Harry said. "I just mean that it's okay to need someone."

"You've got enough on your plate taking care of Bear. You don't need to stress out about me too. You're making it sound like I'm ill or something."

"When was the last time you stepped on a scale, Draco? Or looked at yourself in a mirror?" Harry demanded.

"I don't do that," Draco muttered.

"Which part?"

"Either."

Harry closed his eyes briefly then grabbed Draco's wrist, holding him firm as he marched through the house to the bathroom they shared. There was a large mirror above the sink; Harry positioned Malfoy in front of it and stood slightly behind him.

"Look," he commanded. Draco shook his head.

Harry decided that these sorts of times called for drastic measures. He took Draco's chin in his hand and wrenched it upwards.

"Look."

Draco's tongue wet his lips nervously, then his eyes flickered to his reflection. He blinked a few times. Then he sighed.

"What's the point, Harry?"

Harry knew that it was bravado talking. He left his hand on Draco's jaw for support and waited. He waited for him to see the pale, greyish skin and dark shadows under his eyes. Waited for him to see the angular collarbones and shoulders, the tendons straining in his neck. Finally, recognition dawned in those deep, slate eyes and Malfoy seemed to sag under Harry's careful hold.

Instead of leaving it there, like he thought he probably should, Harry grabbed the hem of Draco's grey shirt and yanked it upwards, over his head. The map of scars, both old and new that covered Draco's pale skin shocked him, and it must have shown on his face because Malfoy shot him a look of pure loathing as the damage was revealed.

"There was no need for that," he muttered darkly.

"What did they do to you?" Harry asked. Draco just shook his head. Snatched the shirt from Harry's hand and ineffectually held it against his chest, trying to shield the damaged skin from Harry's eyes.

"I would like to be left alone now," he said in a hoarse, defeated voice. Harry was stuck to the floor in shock. "Leave before I fucking hex you out."

Harry nodded and carefully shut the bathroom door with a click.

Bear was sleeping. With a lack of anything else to do, Harry collected up his dirty clothes and put them on to wash, then absent mindedly went about tidying up his room. Then read for a while. Or, tried to read. The house was eerily silent. He couldn't sleep.

Eventually, right on cue, Bear woke up for his middle of the night feed. Harry scrambled out of bed and to the nursery, wanting to be the one to comfort the child this time. He recognised his own need to do something positive, to help one member of the household when he'd failed so miserably trying to help the other.

He rocked Bear back to sleep, or almost to sleep, in the rocking chair, then stood and started to pace, bouncing the baby gently on his shoulder. For someone with absolutely no experience with children, and no paternal instincts whatsoever, the speed in which he'd fallen completely, head over heels for this child was staggering.

"Can I take him?" Draco's voice came from behind him.

Harry jumped but was unsurprised to see Draco leaning on the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest. Once again, he was wearing a long sleeved t- shirt. Harry passed the sleepy Bear over, carefully, so as not to wake him.

The two men leaned in at the same time, each brushing a kiss over one side of Bear's head. The move brought them into dangerous proximity; Harry's forehead only just avoiding bumping against Draco's, close enough to smell the clean, soft smell from the baby and the mint and clove combination that was all grown man and Draco.

Harry's eyes flew open in shock and met slate grey eyes, something unreadable in that dark expression.

_Too close,_ his subconscious whispered._ Too close._

But Harry had learned, years ago, to not listen to the voices in his head. He kissed Bear again, rubbed the little boy's back, and ignored Draco's surprised intake of breath and long exhale as he left the room.


	6. Left and Rights

_I know what you're thinking. You're thinking 'HFS- you're one dirty bitch. You write boy-butt-sex like it's going out of fashion. You write some of the kinkiest shit around in the Twilight fandom, seriously, woman, what the hell is going on? Where is our Harry/ Draco man- love?' Well. It's coming. *ahem*.  
It's fair to say that the warnings start here. If you are in any way a) related to me or b) under 18, please PM me and I'll give you an idea of how this story ends, DO NOT read on. ("They all drank lemonade, the end." (If you get that reference, please do let me know.))  
I'm starting to think that good Harry/ Charlie Weasley slash might not exist. Would you read it if I wrote it?  
And finally, I'm not a review h00r by any stretch of the imagination. I hardly ever do this. But I would **love **to hear your thoughts and opinions. Thank you! Enjoy!_

* * *

Chapter 6- Left and Rights

Harry made Thursday afternoons his afternoon to do the trip to the supermarket; every time he mentioned it to Draco he was met with fierce resistance. It was a good excuse to get Bear out of the house for a couple of hours and into some fresh air, even if Harry was slightly paranoid about making sure no one got close enough to see the baby's changing eye colour. It seemed, to Harry, that Bear was starting to learn how to control his gift, although he couldn't be sure.

There was something to be said about being a single man with a baby in a predominantly female environment. He was stopped at least four times by various women as he made his way around the supermarket, all wanting to know more about Bear, assuming that Harry was his father. The news that the baby was an orphan drew sighs of sadness and compassion and a gentle hand on Harry's arm. If he had any desire towards getting a girlfriend, Bear was certainly the right way to try and achieve this.

When he was done with the shopping he spelled the bags to be feather- light and Apparated back to the kitchen of Grimmauld Place with Bear securely strapped to his chest. It was only mid afternoon. Harry had no desire to be by himself for the rest of the day and decided to pass the time with a long walk around the park.

In London, the changing of the seasons wasn't felt nearly as extremely as in the countryside. Still, there was a defining chill in the air and the crunch of leaves underfoot and the smell… it was reassuring. He stopped when he got to the park and turned Bear around in the harness so he faced outwards, so he could look around. It was a move that garnered yet more unwanted female attention.

Dusk was starting to creep in by the time Harry returned home, both he and the baby red cheeked from the cold. After setting a roaring fire in the grate Harry made a cup of tea and settled in one of his arm chairs to warm up, Bear cradled protectively in the crook of his arm with a bottle in his mouth.

The walk had done its job and Bear fell asleep quickly, although Harry kept the baby with him for company, he would nap happily in his Moses basket for a few hours. Bear slept soundlessly, leaving the house quiet. Too quiet. He set a pizza in the oven and hummed to himself to try and make the imposing house feel warmer but it was no use. The place just didn't feel full unless Draco was home.

There was half a pizza cooling on the coffee table when the flames in the grate turned green and roared with life, and one Draco unfolded himself onto the hearth rug.

"Leftovers, there, if you want some," Harry said without looking up from his book.

The silence that greeted him made him frown as he slowly lifted his eyes to the other man. Draco was… _fuck._ Draco was fucked.

"What's wrong?" Harry demanded. Draco just shook his head. He hadn't moved to take off his grey wool coat, or moved at all, as far as Harry could tell. His hair was ragged and his eyes were sunken and rimmed with red. "Okay, stay there, I'm going to put Bear down."

Harry Apparated to the nursery, quickly putting the baby in his crib and pulling a blanket over him, then racing back to the living room. Draco had finally taken off his coat and shoes, sending them back to the hallway closet, Harry guessed, because they weren't anywhere he could see. He was now pacing the living room in his socks, his fists in his hair.

"What's up, mate?" Harry said softly.

Draco looked up with haunted eyes. "Don't. Please don't be nice to me. I don't think I can handle that."

"You want me to be horrible to you instead?"

"I can't… I can't do this any more, I just…"

"Draco," Harry demanded, grabbing the other man's arms and holding him still, tugging slightly to pull long fingers away from pale skin.

His eyes, those poor, haunted slate grey eyes that had seen too much too young just begged Harry to do something, to reach out and save him once again because, _fuck it,_ no one else was going to do it.

"I'm so sorry, Draco," Harry said. He slid his fingers through surprisingly heavy blonde hair in a gesture that seemed to stun both men into a loaded silence.

"Don't touch me," Draco said in a haunted whisper, making no attempt to move away.

"I think, "Harry said slowly, "That some of the problem is because no one touches you at all."

"You sound just like her."

Harry didn't have time to ask who she was, whoever Draco was referring to, because he jerked back as if he'd been shocked and went to storm from the room in the dramatic fashion he was prone to.

"Wait, Draco," Harry said, snatching for Draco's wrist.

"Let me go," Draco said tensely. He stopped but didn't pull away.

"No."

"Don't be a stubborn bloody prick, let me go."

"No, Draco," Harry said, not entirely sure why he was arguing.

"Harry."

Something heavy was zinging through the air, tension or something similar causing Harry's heart to race in an unnatural rhythm. He thought, for a moment, that Draco was giving in; his head sagged and shoulders slumped in defeat, then out of nowhere a fist flew around and landed squarely on H's jaw.

Harry clutched at his throbbing face in shock, then a red haze of anger slowly descended over his eyes and he shouted at the retreating form of a much thinner, albeit taller man who apparently had no problem with hitting him in the face and then buggering the hell off.

As Draco turned Harry hit him right back, forgetting completely that he was a wizard with prodigious skill, that he could hex or curse or spell in some way… D was obviously battling with the same problem as he fought back, not with magic but with kicking, biting, punching fury.

He had spent years of his childhood dodging the ham- like fists of his cousin and his beefy friends; Draco, apparently, had not. For a moment Harry almost felt guilty that he was so clearly more capable in a bare knuckle fistfight, that was until Draco kneed him in the groin and he doubled over, gasping for breath.

"Mother_fuck,_" Harry gasped and rolled on to the floor, sweeping his legs out to knock Draco off his feet.

They fell together and without really knowing how it happened, Harry found himself straddling the other man, pinning his arms to the floor and trapping legs that were ready to kick beneath his thighs.

Harry was panting hard for breath, unaware of how to get out of this particular position without backing down. He'd won something but it was a victory without any clear prize.

The grey eyes that Harry had thought haunted now looked… pissed off, for lack of a better expression. _Spitting mad,_ Harry thought as Draco scowled at him, something that would have been undoubtedly more effective if he hadn't spent six years at school giving Harry nearly the exact same expression.

"Get the fuck off me, Potter," Draco demanded in a low voice.

"Back to 'Potter' again now, are we?" Harry taunted.

"Get. The fuck. Off me."

"Or what?"

Grey eyes met green in unspoken challenge, then Draco wrenched one of his hands free and Harry prepared himself for another smack in the face. It didn't come. Instead, cool fingers wrapped around the back of his neck and pulled him down into an intense, heated kiss.

It took moments of pure shock before adrenaline and arousal kicked in and Harry returned the kiss with bruising force, forgetting the wrist he had pinned to the floor and forgetting everything else outside a hot tongue that tasted of mint and smoke and sweet and… _Draco. _

He gasped, freaking out about this, not ready to be kissed with such intent, this passion. He tried to pull away but found himself being flipped over with a strength he didn't know Draco possessed, so much more than what his slim body looked like it could hold.

The breath was knocked out of him as his back landed flat on the floor and he sucked in his next lungful of air, breathing in at the same time that smell... that he'd smelled before somewhere... the memory of disdainfully violet hair...

Then those deceptively soft lips were back on his, more insistent this time, gently prising his lips apart; then Draco's tongue sliding into his mouth and his hands weren't pinned down but one of them was contained with a fistful of soft navy blue shirt and he had no idea how that had happened.

There was a pressing hardness against his groin and it wasn't disturbing at all, it felt... _right,_ somehow, and then there was another pressing hardness, within his own jeans this time, straining upwards for more contact or more friction or more something, whatever he could get.

Draco groaned, or whimpered, and Harry was struck with how different it was to kissing a girl. Not that he'd had a huge amount of experience in kissing girls, but there was something about the rough slide of one unshaven jaw against another, the feel of even power, even strength, giving and taking in equal amounts that was a new thrill. A better thrill.

He didn't think about what was undoubtedly Draco's cock, fully hard and pressing against his. Couldn't think of that, as pristine white teeth nipped at his bottom lip, because if he did he was sure to go back to freaking out, and the kissing was much, much better than the freaking out.

Without warning, the other man was scrambling back, the kiss broken and wide, frantic grey eyes locked on his. Only vaguely aware of their being knocked off, Harry grabbed his glasses and shoved them back on his face.

"Draco..." he started, but he was already gone.

xXx

Harry thought that Draco was hiding in his room, and despite all his misgivings about the best kissing he'd ever done, he decided he had to track the bastard down. Bear was still sleeping. But Draco wasn't in his room.

Or his basement, when Harry checked there. Or in the kitchen. Exasperated, Harry cast _Homono Revellium_ and discovered what he'd already suspected. Draco had gone.

xXx

There was no way of knowing where Draco was, and it was late, and, Harry remembered guiltily, he'd come home in such a terrible mood anyway. He could be off getting drunk, or sulking in some alley somewhere, or getting beat up by people who didn't like the way he scowled at them. Draco did scowl, frequently.

Harry went to bed with a raging erection and a sick feeling in his stomach which was almost enough to negate the first. But not quite. He turned the volume on his _conspectus_ charm right up and warded the house against any person entering except Draco. Not that he expected Draco to come home in the night.

And he didn't.

Over breakfast the next morning Harry wrote the a letter and sent it off with one of Draco's owls, demanding then pleading for him to come back. Bear sat in a high chair for breakfast now, slapping his hands on the moulded plastic as Harry attempted to feed him mango and banana purée with varying levels of success. His response, when it came, was short and to the point.

_Fuck off, Potter._

Harry grit his teeth in grim resignation and put quill to parchment once again.

_Draco, I can't do this without you. You can't leave Bear like this. Come the fuck home. _

The owl brought a reply, not quickly enough for Harry to believe Draco was still in London. The time in between sending the owl and receiving a reply was mostly spent pacing. Pacing and cursing the miserable Slytherin bastard.

_Your place is not my home._

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Harry growled, crumpling the note and throwing it at the wall.

He snatched another piece of parchment and scrawled a reply.

_This isn't about you, you insufferable bastard. Look- I know your movements are being tracked by the Ministry. I have a friend who works for the Ministry. It's not particularly difficult for me to figure out where you are anyway, but you do not want me coming to get you and drag your ass back here._

He used a different owl this time, not wanting to exhaust the same bird by sending it back and forth to Wiltshire. It was undoubtedly where Draco was hiding out- in his childhood home.

By early evening he'd still not received a reply. The remains of his solo, uneaten dinner were going cold in the middle of the table and he was starting to seriously contemplate packing up Bear and going to search for him, but the crack of Apparation signalled that Draco was back.

"I hate you," Draco said.

Harry jumped from his seat and turned to where the blond man was stood, hair tousled by the wind and covered against the cold in a worn leather jacket. He brought the smell of fresh air with him.

"No, you don't," Harry said, sounding more confident than he felt and just as weary.

"You... you don't know that. You had no right..."

"Both of us," Harry interrupted him. "It was not a one way thing. If you want to play the blame game then you get to take half of the responsibility."

"That was low. Using Bear to emotionally blackmail me into coming back. I really hate you."

Harry took an unsteady step forward. "No, you don't," he repeated. "You don't kiss someone like that if you hate them."

Draco shut his eyes and shook his head, his hands balling into fists at his sides. Harry noticed a soft, mauve bruise starting to bruise on the other man's jaw, only slightly hidden by the day old scruff of not shaving.

Draco's next words were whispered: "It's not how I imagined kissing you would be."

His eyes burst open in shock when he realised what he'd said, his hand flying to his mouth.

He didn't have a reputation for being the quickest to catch on to things, but Draco's words hit Harry immediately.

"You imagined kissing me?"

"Oh, fuck," Draco sighed, sliding into the chair he clearly considered to be his and covering his face with his hands, wearily rubbing his eyes.

"You... you..."

George's words came back to him from his dinner at The Burrow; _I reckon he fancies you,_ and too many pieces of the puzzle clunked into place at the same time, a whooshing feeling that made the entire of the sixth year suddenly make sense, and the reason why Draco never turned him over to the Death Eaters in March, and, and...

"Oh fuck," Harry whispered.

"Yeah. Potter. Fuck."

Draco's voice had lost nearly all of its bite and again, Harry was struck with just how different, how much older and wiser and desperately sad this man was. Not the spoiled, mighty child with the world at his feet and his father at his back. One who had lived through wars and devastation and acute, painful loss.

Two strides across the cold tiles on the kitchen floor and he pulled Draco into a hug. Not a sexual hug; one where their bodies aligned at shoulder and hip, heads tilting slightly to fit together. Strong arms with long, lean muscles wrapping around solid torsos to cling, almost desperately to each other, to hold and be held.

Harry inhaled deeply and sighed, shifting slightly and pulling Draco closer to him. Draco let out a hoarse, dry sob and sagged slightly, pressing his face against the bare skin of Harry's neck.

"It's okay," Harry murmured. Not really sure what he was reassuring Draco of, or why, but knowing it was important.

"I can't... I can't do this any more," Draco said. "I can't keep on like this."

"Tell me," Harry said, pulling back slightly.

Draco nodded, his hold on Harry's arms tightening as he pulled him into the familiar twist of Apparation. They landed on Draco's bed, and Harry hadn't expected that but let it happen nonetheless. He didn't want to break whatever precious understanding they had come to.

"I don't know where to start," Draco said as he shrugged out of his jacket and hung it in the wardrobe. Harry couldn't help but smirk at his fastidiousness.

"When did you know you were gay?" Harry asked. He had no idea where the question had come from, it just escaped from his mouth, bypassing his brain completely.

"When did you know you were straight?" Draco bit back.

"Alright, calm down. There's no need to be like that."

"When I was about thirteen, I suppose," Draco said with a long sigh. He sat down on the high backed chair Harry had used before. None of his laundry was draped over it this time, though. "I sort of realised I didn't like girls at all. And that all of my wet dreams happened when I was thinking of boys."

Harry snorted with laughter. "Nice."

"Don't start that with me. You're not exactly straight as an arrow yourself."

"I haven't got any stories to tell you," Harry said honestly. "Some girls are pretty. Some boys are pretty. I've never known any gay boys before, so it's hard for me to come to any conclusions one way or another."

"I've apparently known enough for the both of us," Draco muttered. He picked at a nonexistent thread in the knee of his jeans.

"Tell me."

Another long, suffering sigh. "Alright. I'll start at the beginning, okay?" Harry nodded silently. "Okay. The first guy I was with was when I was on holiday in France, um, summer before fifth year, so I was fifteen. Just. His name was Jacques."

"Go on," Harry said.

"Not a lot to tell," Draco said and shrugged. "A lot of snogging. Couple of blowjobs. I didn't fuck him until the next summer." He paused as if waiting for a reaction. Harry didn't give him one. "Of course, by that time I'd been letting other people fuck _me_ for a while."

That did draw a reaction out of Harry. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah. First time was in a field. Christmas break, with one of my parent's friend's son. He was huge. God, I felt that for days. He came back for more a few times, then married some Bulgarian witch with a pureblood line going back about a thousand years. Bastard." His words were even, emotionless, even as he described the pain of losing his virginity.

"Was there ever anyone at school?" Harry asked.

"No. Although, that wasn't for a lack of me trying. There was one guy who I knew was openly gay, a couple of years older than us in Ravenclaw. I was desperate for him but he wouldn't fuck me. I don't know if it was because of who I am or if he really didn't fancy me.

"My mother kept giving me lectures about my 'promiscuity'," he made air quotes, "she never mentioned anything about sexuality, but I never bothered to hide the fact that I was sneaking out for sex all the time. She was more bothered about the Muggles than the men."

"You had sex with a Muggle?" Harry repeated, shocked.

"Yeah. A few of them. Teenage rebellion." Draco shrugged again. "I did a lot of stupid things in the name of teenage rebellion. Surely it's your turn now. Did you really get a tattoo?"

Harry smirked, oddly delighted that Ginny's rumour had travelled wide enough for Draco to have heard it. "No. No tattoo. Where did you go? Last night, I mean."

"Home. The Manor. How the hell did you inherit this place?"

They'd fallen into an unspoken agreement; you go, I go. It seemed to Harry that this was the best form of communication with the other man, any attempts to formalise or vocalise an agreement ended in bickering. They agreed surprisingly often when no one mentioned the fact that they were agreeing.

"Sirius did it," Harry said with a shrug. "I didn't even know he'd made a will until after he died. Dumbledore was worried for a while that it had passed into Bellatrix' possession but whatever it was that Sirius did it worked, because it's mine, now.

"Why don't you ever where short sleeved shirts? Even in the house?"

Draco rolled his eyes and pulled the sleeves of his light sweater up to his elbows. "Why do you think, you bloody idiot?"

Harry leaned over from the bed and grabbed the proffered arm, pulling Draco from the chair and on to the bed next to him. Harry ran his fingertips back and forth against the ugly mark on Draco's forearm and looked up to meet unreadable grey eyes.

"Did it hurt?" he asked without thinking.

Then the words were out there and he had no way of taking him back, however much he wanted to. And he did want to, a lot.

"Yeah," Draco said after an extended silence.

"How do they-"

The look in Draco's eyes stopped the question before it was fully formed.

"The Dark Lord is the one who does it," Draco said, looking anywhere but at Harry. For what it was worth, Harry kept his fingers right on the scar, determined not to be intimidated by it, or what it represented. "It'll fade in a few years."

Draco pushed his sleeves back down again, forcing Harry to move his hand.

"Can you not get it removed? I think Muggles have this treatment, with lasers or something..."

"Yeah, I know," Draco said with a sigh. "I asked... I asked someone about it and they said they're looking into whether it would work. It's not a normal tattoo. Everyone knows I've got it anyway, so it doesn't make much difference really. I just don't like having to look at it.

"What are you nightmares about?"

"That it's not over," Harry said honestly. "Sometimes it's just... so real... and I forget. That it's all over. That he's dead, and he's not coming back, and that I don't have to worry about it any more."

"I've sort of developed this... _fearofthedark,_" Draco mumbled, blushing.

"Why?"

Draco sighed and looked like he severely regretted his latest admission. His back was arched, bowed over with his hands in his lap, looking for all the world like he was praying for strength.

"During the day, it was all about keeping up appearances," Draco started. "My mother still hosted her society lunches and charity meetings in her conservatory while people were locked in the cellars underneath them. You know, we were all required to attend breakfast every morning at eight, then lunch at twelve thirty, dinner at six. It was only after dark that things got..."

Harry watched as Draco shuddered, composed himself, and continued: "They would wake me up in the middle of the night to attend those meetings. Most of the time it was people reporting back to the Dark Lord of what had happened during the day, but sometimes they'd torture people right there, and I had to watch all of it. It was when they'd punish anyone who seemed like they might want to defect.

"I could never really sleep because I never knew when someone would sneak into my room and _Crucio_ me, just for the fun of it. That sort of fear just lingers, you know? Fuck, Harry."

As Draco started to shake Harry pulled him into his arms again, the same way he would with Ron or Hermione without a second thought. It was too early to go to sleep, really, but Harry kicked off his trainers and shifted back on the bed to crawl under the covers. After a moment's hesitation, Draco followed him.

Although they were fully clothed, Harry was still startled when Draco curled up into his chest when they settled down side by side.

"Therapy," Draco said without any prompting. Harry couldn't see his face, it was buried in his chest somewhere.

"Hmm?" Harry asked.

"Thursday afternoons. As part of my parole, I have to go to a counselling or therapy or psychiatry, whatever you want to call it. My therapist is called Miranda. She has to make sure I'm not involved in any Dark activity. But in normal therapy sessions everything is confidential. Everything I tell Miranda is reported back to the Ministry."

"That doesn't sound very... ethical," Harry said, wondering why his hand was rubbing slow, comforting circles between Draco's shoulder blades, the same way he did with the baby.

Draco snorted. "No such thing as ethics when it comes to Death Eaters."

"Ex- Death Eaters," Harry corrected him.

"No such thing as ex- Death Eaters, either."

Harry imagined Draco could hear his heartbeat, with the way his face was pressed up to Harry's chest. The thought of this made him take long, slow breaths in an attempt to calm the frantic thudding that he too could feel.

"How did you imagine it would be?" Harry asked, his voice hoarse and scared and strangely deep.

Neither man needed to clarify what he was talking about. Draco pulled back; his face was all angles in the light spilling through the doorway from the hall and the streetlight outside his window, Harry could see the little line between his eyebrows as he frowned thrown into harsh relief.

"Like this," Draco whispered.

If their last kiss was a bruising battle for dominance, this one was a sweet chance for exploration. Harry's eyelids fluttered closed as Draco cupped his cheek in his hand and leaned in, brushing lips over lips once, then again, then leaning in further to press mouths together.

Harry's tongue crept out to wet his lips and it brushed against Draco's in the process. It felt right, natural for Harry to gently roll Draco on to his back so he was half lying on the other man, his knee between Draco's legs. Draco's hand slid round to tangle in the hair at the base of Harry's neck, too long, as it always was, but silky smooth between long fingers.

It didn't progress into anything more, just two men, one desperately in love, the other fearfully confused, gently kissing each other, fully clothed in bed.


	7. Broomsticks, Butterbeer & Other Things

_A/N: It's a beautiful day! The trees are singing, the birds are swaying! And I will keep quoting Dylan Moran until someone recognises it!_  
_Lovely day for a bonus update, don't you think? The unseasonal sun in England has put me in a spectacular mood. That, and I now have five chapters (well, four, now) queued up ready to be posted. I work much better, and faster, under pressure. This will do me good. I hope. I will, of course, update as normal on the weekend._  
_I am in the process of writing Harry Potter/ Charlie Weasley slash. If I write it, they will come. Or, something like that._  
_Today I read a fic called _Sirius Strangelove_ by TuesdayMidnight (see my favourite author's page) which had me crying with laughter on the train during my commute home. It is seriously, seriously funny and I really recommend you pop over there and leave her some love when you're done with this._  
_I hope you all have a lovely day! - HFS xx_

* * *

Chapter 7- Broomsticks, Butterbeer and... Something Else That Starts With The Letter B

Harry woke alone unable to feel his hands. He'd slept with them tucked up under his chest and the pressure and weight of his body had numbed the nerve endings, forcing him to shake them awake. At some point in the night he'd kicked off jeans and socks - it was practically sacrilegious to sleep in socks - and the smell and feel of the sheets underneath him made him immediately aware that this was not his bed.

It was Draco's.

Draco wasn't in it.

He retained a vague, sleepy memory of curling around another warm body in the night; of soft cries of distressed that lessened as he fit his chest to the curve of another's spine, tucking his knees into the crook of someone else's knees.

The house was silent but for the soft tinkling of the mobile hanging above Bear's crib, one that depicted a full Quidditch team with corresponding balls, floating in a vague game structure. It was Draco's, from when he was a child.

Harry rose, checked the baby, showered and dressed and went in search of food. He was surprised to see the late hour, and not really surprised that Draco had already left for his mysterious Saturday activities.

But he'd left a note. Another note, pinned to the cupboard where Harry kept the biscuits- a sure sign that he would find it.

_Harry-_

_Bear's fine. I need to go to Gringotts and to the Apothecary for Potions supplies. _

_Will be home by about 4._

_- D_

Harry sighed as he made a pot of tea and summoned his _conspectus_ charm from wherever it was hiding. His snitch came too, seemingly unhappy with being usurped by its fellow floating companion. Catching and pocketing the little golden ball, a slow smile crept across Harry's face.

He still had no idea where Draco went on Saturday afternoons, even if his Thursday exploits had now been shared, and today it didn't matter.

He was going to go play Quidditch.

xXx

It only took one call for Harry to find out that there was a thriving Saturday Quidditch league in London and his local team practiced only a few minutes walk from where he lived. The matter of a babysitter was harder though; he didn't want to swamp Molly and being a Saturday George was likely to be rushed off his feet at the shop. In the end he shrank down his Firebolt and packed it, with his Quidditch gear into a backpack and strapped Bear to his front, deciding to just go down and introduce himself this week and see where it left him.

"Fuck me, it's Harry fucking Potter."

He'd only just walked into the wizarding section of the park when a voice carried over and he turned instinctively to face three tall boys, probably a bit older than him, each with a broomstick slung over their shoulder.

"Hi," he said, suddenly nervous. "I heard there's a Saturday league on here?"

"Yeah," the boy with the filthy language said, extending a hand to him. "Niko Arlington. And this is Darren and Frankie. You wanna play?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm babysitting this morning. I just wanted to find out a bit more about the team."

"Uh uh," Darren said, shaking his head. "You were the youngest Griffindor Seeker in a century, everyone knows that. We've not had a decent seeker since Cassie went and had a baby- we need you."

More than anything, he wanted to get up in the air again. But there wasn't any way he was going to leave Bear unguarded.

"Sorry guys, really, but I haven't got anyone to look after the baby."

Niko frowned and looked over to a small wooden hut, like a changing room off to the side of the park. High trees hid the Quidditch pitch from view, although Harry was sure there would be further enchantments higher up in the air.

"Oi! Lee!" he yelled.

Harry watched in shock and excitement as Lee Jordan poked his head out from around the door.

"Harry!" he exclaimed, rushing out to greet him. "No way! What brings you here?"

Harry shrugged. "Boredom," he laughed.

"Awesome. Because these guys need a Seeker. They're crap at the moment."

"Thanks, Jordan," Darren said, shoving the other man in the shoulder good naturedly.

"Do you play?" Harry asked Lee.

"Nah, mate. I only come down here because Jenny plays." At Harry's raised eyebrow, Lee raised his left hand to show off a silver band. "Got hitched at the beginning of the summer," he said, grinning widely.

"Congratulations," Harry said enthusiastically. "Wow. That's great."

"Yeah, she's pretty amazing." Lee nodded to a slim girl with latte coloured skin who was tying her long hair back in a ponytail, her wedding ring glinting in the sunlight.

"So," Niko said, interrupting. "Would you watch Harry's kid for a while so he can train with us?"

"Your godson, right?" Lee corrected Niko as Harry opened his mouth to do the same.

"Right," Harry agreed. "You don't have to, Lee, honestly..."

"Nah, I don't mind," Lee said easily. "How old is he now?"

"Uh... just over seven months? There's a sippy cup with some juice for him in there if he starts fussing."

"No problem."

"But he's such a good baby," Harry said, already unbuckling the straps of the harness he carried Bear in. "He won't be any trouble at all."

Niko quickly introduced Harry to the assembled group as he struggled out of his backpack and restored his Firebolt to its normal size. Harry nodded politely and smiled, desperately trying to remember all of the names and positions of each team member and failing miserably. The look of relief on Jenny's face as she was told she was being moved to Chaser position and Harry would take Seeker made Harry's mind up - this was a good idea. They wanted him.

"Okay," Niko called out (he was apparently the team captain, too), "Let's get in the air, everyone!"

The rush of air past his face made Harry want to whoop out with excitement, but he held it in, bottling up the feeling for later perusal. He hadn't been on a broom in... fuck, too long, and it was familiar and real and wonderful and just so fucking _right._

He lapped the pitch twice, ducking between players and trees before he realised that this wasn't Hogwarts, he couldn't just do his own thing and there were other people around to consider. But the others were watching him with bright eyed excitement and Darren was actually laughing as Harry pulled up short.

"Sorry," he called out.

"Bugger this," Niko said. "Let's just play."

He quickly assigned positions to people who nodded and fell into formation; Harry deduced that they were used to mixing up what position they played in the team because no one was particularly bothered or surprised at their assignment. They played in teams of four: a Keeper, two Chasers and a Beater per team and Harry was a bit disappointed about being left out until he realised he was the only Seeker.

"We just want to see how you play," Niko assured him as he flew over. "We'll just have a mess about with a Quaffle and a Bludger and you do your thing."

"Okay," Harry agreed easily. "I've got a snitch with me, don't wear out one of yours."

He lapped the pitch again as Niko flew down to let the balls out and suddenly there was a full blown Quidditch match erupting around him. It made Harry feel carefree for the first time in almost two years. He pulled the little golden ball from his pocket and set it free; it seemed to be happy to be given free roam again and immediately shot off for the trees.

The team were okay, sort of like the Ravenclaw side circa Fifth Year; nowhere near as good as the old Griffidor side, they were too uncoordinated and didn't seem to work together that well. But they had some good set moves and everyone was fit and enthusiastic, highlighting his rusty flying and out of shape fitness.

But none of that mattered. He missed the snitch twice before he finally caught it to the whooping cheers of his teammates. Harry blushed and released it again, not wanting the game to end just yet. The others were laughing as he took off again around the field, trying to get a feel for the feints and dives that were, at one time, such an integral part of his flying vocabulary.

When he returned from the park Harry was a hot, sweaty mess, but he loved the burn in his muscles and the mud on his hands; it was proof that he'd achieved something. He set Bear in his crib and went for a shower, changing into his most comfortable lounging about the house clothes and waiting for Draco to come home.

He was late. By about an hour. Harry staunchly didn't mention it, though.

They tiptoed around each other until Harry finally broke as they sat, not talking in the living room, the crackling of the fire the only noise permeating the silence.

"Are we going to talk about last night at all?" he demanded of Draco.

"Nope," Draco said, flicking a page in his book.

"You're ridiculous," Harry huffed.

Draco ignored him.

"Pretending it didn't happen won't make it go away," Harry said petulantly. He wasn't sure why he was pushing the issue, but with everything that Draco had confessed to him it didn't seem right, somehow, to let it drop without at least discussing it first.

"I think," Draco said slowly, "that there's only one solution here."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. We need to get drunk."

"Really?" Harry said, amused.

"Yes. Very, very drunk. What's your potion?"

"My what?"

"What do you drink?" Draco asked, exasperated.

"Oh. Anything, really."

"Okay. I'll go get some stuff in." He turned to leave- Harry grabbed his arm. "I'm coming back, Harry. I promise."

"Okay," Harry agreed. Draco turned on the spot and disappeared.

Bear was sleeping, according to the _conspectus _charm, and Harry suddenly decided that to do 'this' properly, they needed a babysitter. He stuck his head in the fire and called the only person in London who he could trust.

George was sat in a large, leather swivel chair, frantically scratching his quill over a pile of paperwork.

"Harry," he said with a smile, turning to reveal a pair of dark framed glasses. He pulled them off, seemingly un- embarrassed. "What can I do for you?"

Harry stalled, suddenly conscious of what he was asking his friend to do. "I don't suppose you're free for a couple of hours tonight, are you?"

"Maybe. Why?"

"I need a babysitter."

George swung back and forth in his chair, chewing on the arm of the spectacles, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. "Why?"

"Because," Harry said, exasperated. "Please?"

"I've got someone coming round tonight actually."

Harry nodded. "Okay. No worries mate."

"Hang on a minute. It's a person of a distinctly female shape and I know what a girl magnet that kid is."

Harry laughed and raised an eyebrow. "Is that a yes?"

"I'll do it if you tell me why."

Considering his position on the matter, Harry chewed the inside of his cheek, stalling for time. "How about, I'll tell you when I come and pick him up?"

"Even better," George said. "Bring him over."

"Okay. I just need to go and get all his… stuff. He has a lot of stuff."

"No problem."

Harry pulled back from the fire and raced around the house, Summoning various baby paraphernalia and stuffing it into the nappy bag they hardly ever used. Bear seemed to be happy enough and Harry made sure he had a change of clothes and his favourite squashy chair and the Moses basket for him to sleep in before he took the quick trip through the Floo to George's place.

"Who's your date, then?" Harry asked as he set Bear up in his chair.

"I'll tell you later, when you tell me about yours," George said with a sly smirk.

"Fair's fair, I suppose," Harry said. "There's two tubs of stuff in there for his dinner. The orange mush is savoury and the pink mush is sweet, not that it makes a lot of difference what order you give it to him in."

"Okay."

"And there's a bottle for before he goes to bed." Harry added and kissed Bear on the forehead. "Be good for Uncle George," he told the baby, who blew a raspberry at him.

"Come and get him in the morning if you want."

"Are you sure?" Harry said, frowning. "He does sleep through now, but not all the time..."

"Harry. Mate. I don't sleep through myself. You can come and get him later if you want, but it's no big deal if you don't."

"Okay," Harry said, still frowning. "If you need us, just call us. Or your mum. Thanks, George."

"Any time."

He arrived back home only moments before Draco appeared with his arms full of bottles.

"Bloody hell, what's all of that?"

"Alcohol," Draco said grimly. "Lots of it."

"Is it going to make you spill all of those dark secrets?" he asked, sitting down on the floor next to the fire, his back to one of the arm chairs.

"Probably," Draco agreed. "I don't think I care any more, though."

There were too many ways that Harry could interpret that statement, so he decided not to do any interpreting at all and just go with it. Whatever 'it' was.

"Cheers," he said, popping the top off a bottle of Butterbeer.

They'd gone from Butterbeer to firewhiskey, then on to a Muggle drink that Draco had picked up in his time trawling Muggle gay bars called a Jägerbomb. Back on the Butterbeers (for respite), the conversation turned decidedly more languid.

"Harry Potter, you're such a fucking player," Draco laughed, swigging his Butterbeer.

"What?" Harry spluttered. "No I'm not."

"Yeah you are," Draco said in the superior voice that drove Harry absolutely fucking crazy. "Come on. The girls have been falling all over you for years."

"Doesn't mean I did anything to encourage them though," Harry argued.

Draco raised a smug eyebrow and took another deep pull from his bottle. Harry mirrored the action. "First year," Draco started. "Weaselette, obviously."

"Don't call her that," Harry warned him. "Call her Ginny."

"No way."

"Call her Ginny or I'll hex you."

Draco visibly shuddered before considering. "Well, she was still all over you in our second year. Then it was Chang, obviously, then Parkinson at the Yule Ball in Fourth Year-"

"That wasn't anything," Harry interrupted but Draco continued regardless.

"There were rumours of you and that Beauxbatons girl, what was her name," he snapped his fingers a few times in frustration.

"Fleur?" Harry said incredulously.

"Yes! Fleur that's the one."

"She's married to Ron's brother!"

"Well, she wasn't in fourth year, was she? And she kept kissing you all the time. And Moaning Myrtle fancied the pants off you but unfortunately, she's dead." Harry shook his head despairingly and wondered if the bottom of his bottle would make things make more sense. "Then... beginning of fifth year there were whispers about you and Diggory, considering your reaction after he died. I mean, none of us really know what happened in that maze."

"You would know if you bloody listened to me," Harry muttered. Draco ignored him.

"Then back to Chang? Oh! Then it was that weird Ravenclaw girl, Lovegood, the one you took to Slughorn's Christmas party."

"Luna? Oh, come on, please..."

Draco carried on unperturbed. "Then Weas- _Ginny._ Now, personally, I've always thought you and Granger probably had an illicit little fling at some point." Draco leaned back and crossed his ankle over his knee, adopting the position of someone who was really getting into the swing of things.

"Hermione and I never had a fling," Harry said blandly although he knew this wouldn't make any difference to Draco's 'theories'.

"If you say so. Um... Weasley's brother?"

"What the hell are you on? No. Which one?"

Draco laughed, delighted. "The eldest one. The one who likes dragons a _bit too much_." He whispered the last few words conspiratorially.

"Charlie. No. Just... no."

"Yeah, him. That last summer. And then," he heaved a dramatic sigh. "The Weaselette dumped you."

"Are you done?"

"I think so."

"Draco, I'm a virgin."

Harry watched in his own form of sadistic delight as the blonde man choked on his Butterbeer and started hacking and coughing, doubling over with the effort to breathe.

"Holy fuck, Potter, why would you do that to me?"

"Said I'd hex you," Harry said, examining his bitten fingernails. "Thought that would be more effective."

"You at least play for both teams though, right?" Draco demanded.

"What do you mean?"

"You're bisexual, Potter," Draco said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh. Well, I don't know. Yeah, I suppose so."

"For goodness' sakes," Draco sighed dramatically. "While the rest of us were dealing with an abundance of hormones, you were off saving the world. Wait- you aren't completely asexual are you?"

"No!" Harry exclaimed. "I just… I don't know. Always had bigger fish to fry, I suppose."

"Ever had a blowjob?"

"What? No. No, I haven't."

Draco's eyes swept over Harry's body, lingering on his lips, then his crotch. "Want one?"

"Fuck off. I'm not falling for that." The tiny, almost imperceptible quiver in Harry's voice betrayed him.

"Close your eyes. Imagine whoever you want."

"No, Draco," Harry protested feebly.

"Harry." His voice was low. "Close your fucking eyes."

With the alcohol swirling through his consciousness, Harry closed his eyes. He didn't imagine anyone else. It was Draco's hands who cupped the backs of his knees, tugging them forward so his bum hung off the edge of the cushion. Those hands ran down the outside of his calves, gently stroked the tops of his bare feet, disappeared, only to reappear at the button fly of his softest pair of blue jeans.

Harry swallowed thickly and a dull thud informed him that he'd dropped his (thankfully empty) glass. Long, cool, slim fingers worked metal through denim four times, then the warm air assaulted his exposed skin and he had to remind himself that his eyes could open, if they wanted to. He was keeping them closed through choice.

And because he didn't want to incur Draco's wrath for disobedience.

And because he feared Draco may stop if Harry defied him.

So his eyes remained closed.

His jeans were tugged down to his knees, trapping them together in an awkwardness by the waistband that meant Draco couldn't get between them. Harry felt Draco's huff of annoyance as a warm breath that skimmed the tops of his thighs. Suddenly, Harry was very pleased it was laundry day. And that he'd gone commando.

Long, cool, slim fingers floated back up his legs, teasing the dark, wiry hairs covering his thighs until they reached their final destination and, without hesitation, brushed over Harry's sensitive testicles. He shuddered and felt his length grow against his stomach. His t- shirt was tugged up to give it further room for engorgement.

Those fingers... _Draco's fingers_ seemed intent on exploring the whole of Harry's groin area; they combed through the dark trail that drew a line from bellybutton to the thicker growth below, teasing behind his balls before stroking up his erection. One hand remained on his balls, gently rolling them in a surprisingly large and warm palm. The other hand grasped the base of his (now fully hard) cock, and angled it into an incredibly hot mouth.

Harry groaned. Loudly.

Draco huffed in amusement and his tongue flickered over the head of Harry's cock. It took a supreme amount of self control for Harry to not orgasm and clearly, self control was not one of his strong suits or his cock would not have been in Draco Malfoy's mouth. The presence of an ungodly amount of alcohol in his system was, ironically, helping him with the physical side of his self control. For that, Harry was grateful.

As Draco swallowed the rest of Harry's shaft down his throat his hand changed angle so his fingertips were pointing backwards and Harry's balls were resting on his wrist. Harry was almost too far gone to notice this; he was gripping the arms of the chair with a white- knuckled grasp and his head was thrown back, the tendons in his unshaven neck standing out with tense jawed glory.

"Breathe, Harry," Draco implored and licked a stripe from base to head of Harry's cock.

Harry breathed. It felt good, so he did it again.

He then became aware that Draco's inquisitive fingertips had drifted further back, teasing unchartered territory and, if he was honest with himself, it was only the sublime feeling of a tongue on his cock that prevented him from jerking away in horror at the idea of someone touching him _there._

Draco pulled his mouth away and the assault of cool air on wet skin helped pull him back from the edge again. Small, wet kisses were placed along his shaft and fingertips edged further backwards. Harry wrenched his eyes open. For a moment his vision swirled, then settled on slate grey, passion filled eyes.

"Have you ever touched yourself here?" Draco asked in the same low voice.

Harry shook his head.

"May I?"

One shoulder lifted, then dropped in a half hearted shrug. Draco seemed to take this as acquiescence and gently lifted one leg, then the other, placing them over his shoulders and opening Harry to his gaze and touch. Harry watched, transfixed, as Draco sucked a finger into his mouth, wetting it, then took Harry's cock in his mouth again.

This time Harry couldn't have shut his eyes even if he wanted to. His new distraction was one long, wet, Slytherin finger that was gently rubbing and caressing his anus. His asshole. That place where he never imagined anyone even wanting to touch. Harry was immensely grateful that Draco didn't attempt to penetrate him; the gentle fingertip kept a fluttering, teasing presence but never pushed inside. His mouth, however, seemed to be intent on sucking Harry's orgasm out of him.

Draco's mouth was alternately too tight then too loose, too wet, sharp teeth, smooth tongue; a dizzying combination for an already dizzy head. He made a conscious decision that he'd waited long enough already, his manhood and lasting power had been established and he bowed back from the chair, gasping and grunting through his release and hyper aware that Draco was swallowing him. Tasting him.

With eyes tightly closed, Harry was pulled into strong arms and felt a familiar twist of Apparation. When he was set down it was in his own bed. Harry stripped off his t- shirt and pulled the covers back, fully intending to sleep next to Draco and maybe return the favour. He cracked an eye open to see what the problem was.

Draco had transfigured a glass paperweight on his nightstand into a water glass and whispered _'Aguamenti'_ to fill it. Then he leaned down and pulled Harry's glasses from his face. Then he walked to the door and shut it behind him as he left, leaving Harry alone in the darkness.

xXx

The next morning Harry woke to a intense headache and nausea rolling through his belly. He walked to the bathroom aware that he was stark bollocks naked but not caring. After throwing up the contents of his stomach, and then some, he took a bone achingly hot shower that went partway towards making him feel human again.

To his complete horror, Draco was already in the kitchen when he descended in search of coffee. There was also a short water glass full of brilliantly indigo potion.

"It's a hangover potion," Draco said, his voice scratchy from sleep, or lack thereof. He was dressed in loose sweatpants and a black long sleeved t- shirt, his hands wrapped around a large mug of black coffee. Harry noted, with no little relief, that it seemed like Draco was putting on weight. He wasn't fat, but the harsh angles of his bones had softened.

"Thanks," Harry said, throwing back the potion in one. As the harshly sweet liquid hit his tongue he was reminded of Mad Eye, and what he'd make of Harry drinking a potion brewed by Draco Malfoy. _Constant vigilance indeed,_ Harry thought wryly. Although he did feel almost instantly better.

"I'm going to go and pick up Bear," Harry said. Draco nodded. "See you in a bit."

It was so, so awkward, Harry decided as he went straight back up the stairs to the living room Floo. His first sexual experience was with the one person he could honestly say he hated during his school years, and he couldn't even run away and hide from it because he had to bloody _live_ with the man. At least there was a baby between them to divert the awkwardness elsewhere.

"George?" Harry called as he stuck his head in the fire.

"Come on through!" a female voice called out. Harry smirked to himself. Whoever George's date was for the evening, it obviously went well enough for her to stay for breakfast.

At least, it smelled like she was making breakfast, the waft of bacon and toast was floating through the flat from the kitchen.

Harry was more than a little surprised to see his old Quidditch team member standing with her back to the kitchen door, legs covered in black leggings but sparkly silver toenails bare to the tiles, a long blue and white striped shirt covering her almost to her knees.

"Angelina!" Harry said with a genuine smile, pulling her into a hug.

Angelina laughed and kissed him on the cheek. "How's it going, Harry?"

"Good, okay, thanks," he said. "Where's my boy?"

"George is just getting him dressed. You're so cute." Angelina turned back to the stove as they fell into an easy conversation.

"No I'm not. Why?"

"'My boy'," she teased.

"Well he is," Harry said defensively. "He's my godson."

It was almost a relief when George walked through with Bear on his shoulder.

"Before you ask, he woke up once and went straight back to sleep," George said as Harry took the baby and cuddled him close to his body.

"Thanks, George," Harry said, slipping his hand between Bear's t- shirt and baby grow to feel his warmth. "I really appreciate it."

"So, tell me about your date," George said with a wink.

"Sorry, George, there was no date. Draco and I stayed in and got drunk. Discussed ancient history and dark secrets."

"That's even better!" Angelina laughed.

Bear started to whimper and Harry decided it was time for breakfast. For the baby and his friends at least, his stomach was still feeling rather delicate.

"Really, thank you," Harry said as he started to load his arms up with all of Bear's stuff.

"Any time, Harry," George said. "Honestly. I don't mind at all."

Harry nodded, thanked George again, and decided to think more about why Angelina Johnson had spent the evening at George's flat later.

When he arrived back at Grimmauld Place he settled Bear into his squashy chair with his mobile playing, then carried the contraption and child back to the living room where Draco was dressed properly and sat looking anxious.

"What is it?" Harry demanded.

Draco held out a letter silently. Harry skimmed the contents, his eyes flickering back and forth to Draco, then read it again carefully.

"Oh shit."


	8. The Traitor's Curse

_A/N: I feel like I should apologise for the cliffhanger; I don't usually write them because they bug me!  
I'm having a really wonderful time writing this story, it must be said. I tried reading Harry Potter fanfic years ago on Mugglenet and got squicked out very quickly. I think my problem was in trying to read Harry/ Ginny stories. That's never a good idea. Thank god I came across this pairing! Speaking of pairings, I am writing the Harry/ Charlie story. Keep me on author alert if you want to read it, because I have no idea how long it's going to take me to write!  
Thank you to everyone who's reviewing, and to my lovely pre- reader._

* * *

Chapter 8- The Traitor's Curse

Ron and Stonestreet appeared only moments after Harry finished reading the letter, the Floo requesting their access which Harry quickly granted. As Ron introduced his boss, a tall, broad man with a military haircut and a no- nonsense attitude, Harry hung back and wondered just what Draco's reaction to all of this would be. He himself was still reeling from the Ministry's request for help... from _Draco_, of all people.

"I trust you received our owl?" Martin Stonestreet asked.

Harry nodded. "I must say I'm a bit confused..." he said cautiously, inviting the other men to sit down.

Stonestreet looked to Ron and nodded almost imperceptibly.

"We think we've located a group of missing people," Ron said as he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "The Ministry has been trying to locate them for months, and we've tracked them back to Yaxley Manor in Yorkshire."

"I know Yaxley Manor," Draco said softly. "I've been there a few times."

"Did you know anything about a group of prisoners being held there?" Stonestreet asked harshly.

Draco shook his head. "No. I told you everything I knew months ago. There was a lot they didn't tell me, Auror Stonestreet."

Stonestreet seemed to accept this. "We've had Ministry Aurors and code breakers trying to get in round the clock. But the place is warded up tighter than anywhere we've ever seen before."

"Which backs up our theory that that's where the missing people are," Ron added excitedly.

"It's taken days, but we think we've found out why no one has been able to cross the threshold," Stonestreet said.

"Well, you wouldn't be able to get in unless you've got a Dark Mark," Draco said.

The two men's faces dropped.

"You knew this?" Stonestreet demanded.

"Of course. It was standard Death Eater policy. If you'd asked me, I would have told you."

"Yes, well." Stonestreet seemed to shake himself off. "There are only two people left who have a Dark Mark, and one of them is in Azkaban."

"Ah," Draco said grimly. "You want my help."

"We just want you to go and take the wards down," Ron said, the petulant and patronising tone in his voice raising Draco's hackles.

"I want to negotiate terms," Draco said firmly, ignoring Ron and directing his words to Stonestreet instead. Harry watched the exchange and forced himself not to get involved. This clearly wasn't his fight and he had little say in the matter.

"Thought you might," Stonestreet said grimly. "Go on then."

"Release my mother immediately. And I want my father's sentence reduced."

"No way!" Ron exclaimed. Stonestreet glared at him and he shut up. Harry suppressed a snort of laughter.

"In my esteemed colleagues words, no way," Stonestreet said. "I can reduce your mother's sentence from five years to three. Your father's from a life sentence to twenty five years."

"After twenty five years in Azkaban he'd likely be dead," Draco said without emotion. "Ten years. And my mother out after she's served a year."

"Draco, there are people's lives on the line here," Harry said softly, interrupting for the first time. "Can we do this later? Afterwards?"

"Not now, Potter," Draco said, not unkindly, but firmly.

Harry decided to let Draco get on with it. The lives at stake might very well be Draco's parents', too.

"One year," Stonestreet echoed, carrying on around their conversation. "House arrest for one more. Community service for the year during house arrest and another year following that. Your father serves twelve years. I'm levelling with you now, Mr Malfoy, I'm not authorised to negotiate anything more than that. If you're not happy with my terms you'll need to take it to the Minister himself."

Draco nodded and held out his hand. "Done."

Stonestreet nodded and shook it. "Okay. Lets get going."

"Hang on, hang on," Harry interrupted. "I'm coming too."

"Alright," Stonestreet said with a shrug.

"We're looking after my godson at the moment," Harry said. "I need to get a babysitter for him."

"Take him to my mum's," Ron said immediately, and a little sheepishly. "I called her earlier and she said it would be fine."

Harry hadn't even unpacked all of Bear's things from his night at George's and he felt slightly guilty to pack the baby up again and ship him off to another Weasley relative, but this was something big. Something to make him feel involved again and there was no way he was going to give up the chance to be there in the thick of it all.

Molly was, of course, completely fine with watching the baby for a couple of hours and took Harry's rushed explanations with a wave of her hand. Back at the house, Draco had changed out of his Muggle clothes and back into the harshly formal, black wizard robes that had been his usual attire during their school years. He'd also slicked his hair back again, much to Harry's distress, and looked more like the sixteen year old schoolyard enemy than he had in the whole time he'd been living at Grimmauld Place.

"What... why?" Harry asked incoherently as he stood at Draco's open door, watching him button up the high collar and check his jaw to make sure it was smoothly shaven.

Draco shrugged and sighed. "It's a mask, Harry. A familiar one. They expect me to look and act a certain way, so it's easier to do that than rock the boat."

"I need to get changed too," Harry said absently.

"Yeah, you do." Draco met Harry's eyes in the mirror with a small smile. "It'll be fine. Don't worry."

"I'm not," Harry said, a little too quickly, and turned to go to his own room and find out a set of robes.

Yaxley Manor was startlingly similar to Malfoy Manor. The stone walls surrounding it were high and imposing, a pair of wrought iron gates giving a small glimpse of the huge house beyond a tree lined drive.

As well as Martin Stonestreet and Ron, there were three other Aurors present and a medi-witch, who was on hand for any seriously injured captives, although Stonestreet, who was heading the mission, seemed to think that the prisoners would either be dead or okay, having been kept alive by the house- elves.

Harry watched as Draco cricked his neck, pushing ear to shoulder on either side as he walked up to the gates, drawing his wand from the pocket of his robes. The air around them seemed to crackle with dark, intense magic. It hadn't escaped his notice that the other members of the Auror search and rescue team hung well back from the gates.

Slowly, with excruciating precision, Draco murmured words and drew complicated shapes with his wand, removing the complex wards that were keeping the Aurors out. After about five minutes he stopped and wiped his forehead with his arm.

"Bloody hell, how long have you lot been trying to get in here?" he asked.

"A few weeks," Stonestreet admitted. "Every time we attempted to take down one of the wards it threw up a few more in its place."

"I'd noticed," Draco said wryly. "Okay. Shut up now, I need to concentrate."

There seemed to be no activity at all amongst the gathered men and women; the crisp, cold autumn air stained Harry's cheeks pink but he dared not move, lest he break Draco's concentration. It took a further ten minutes until a rush of warmth seemed to rush past them from the direction of the gates and Draco's wand arm slumped, seemingly exhausted.

"Right. They're down."

Draco walked towards the gates, his left, Marked arm extended this time and easily passed through the iron as if it was thin air. When Stonestreet approached though, he walked straight into the solid metal with a loud _clang_. Draco, who had turned, seemed to bite back a snigger.

"Oh dear." He looked around and spotted a small metal box at about shoulder height, attached to he wall next to the gate. He rolled his eyes. "It's an entry system, you need to be in the house to open the gates. Give me a minute and I'll let you in."

He Disapparated and Stonestreet walked back to the medi-witch who checked his nose for any breakage.

"The kid takes down some of the most complex defensive spells this team has ever seen then gets foiled by a phone entry system," he griped.

"Is that what it is?" Harry asked, confused at the... _Muggleness_ of it.

"Yeah," Stonestreet said. "You tap your wand against the box and it lets someone in the house know who you are, then authorised people can grant access. It's blatantly ripped off from the Muggle equivalent, but the Purebloods like the exclusivity of it. Apparently."

As he finished talking the thick black gates melted away to let them pass and the team around him sprung into action, each of them falling into position as they Apparated away one by one. Harry ran a little way up the path until he could see the wide front porch and concentrated his mind on appearing in a spot he'd never been before.

As his feet landed on solid stone again he felt a grip of tension, of distress, that he wasn't used to feeling since the war ended - something terrible had happened.

The front door was open and he hesitated for only a moment before barging through. He found Draco on the floor, blood pouring from his left forearm and the medi-witch already tending to him. The shock of the sight took him right back to the sixth year, and a flooded bathroom, and Draco lying on the floor and too much blood…

Panic gripped at his chest and punched nausea into his stomach. If something was to happen to Draco now - the thought was too much to bear. They were building bridges; their friendship was hugely important to him and the other thing between them, that tiny little bubble of happiness that had lodged itself under Harry's ribcage when they were together, well, he wasn't ready for that to burst just yet. It couldn't. It just couldn't.

"What the-" he started, grabbing one of the other Aurors to get an explanation from her as she rushed past him. Jamieson. That was her name.

"Traitor's curse," she said with a grim shrug. "Looks like it's resonated through his Dark Mark."

Draco's skin was sallow and pale, sickly looking as the red pool of blood around his arm grew and the few, shuddering breaths that Harry had been unconsciously watching were slowing, and Draco couldn't die, he just couldn't...

"Potter!" the medi- witch snapped, grabbing his attention back and permitting Jamieson to escape into the bowels of the house. "You need to take him to St Mungo's immediately. He's stable for the moment but he needs immediate attention. I've sent word ahead so they're expecting you. Fourth floor-"

"Spell damage," Harry finished for her grimly. "I know."

Draco seemed to be unconscious as Harry lifted him and nodded his thanks to the witch who frowned at him as he Apparated away. The moment he landed in the fourth floor welcome area there was a Healer and two nurses ready for him, levitating Draco on to a trolley and immediately casting a series of spells that covered Draco's body with an iridescent, bubble- like sheen.

No one seemed to notice Harry's presence as he followed the team through to a treatment room, or if they did, they didn't seem to be bothered with it. They seemed to speak in shorthand; one witch maintaining the protective spells while another Banished Draco's expensive designer robes.

Pale skin was even paler with all of the blood he'd lost and as Harry watched, Draco started to regain consciousness, writhing in pain and crying out.

"Shh," the nurse said, pushing him back down on to the bed and Summoning a bottle of potion from one of the white cupboards adjacent to the window in the small room. "Here, drink this."

She cradled the back of Draco's head and poured the acid green potion down his throat. Almost immediately Draco fell back on to the bed in a dead slump.

"Can't get the bleeding to stop," one of the other nurses said as she threw spell after spell at Draco's arm which was steadily leaking blood, the dark tattoo unrecognisable underneath all the red.

"Can't you just put pressure on it?" Harry asked desperately, his basic First Aid training coming into effect. The Healer stopped and stared at him as if only just remembering that he was in the room. He gave Harry a small smile.

"Certainly, Mr Potter, but that usually inhibits our ability to access the damaged area with spellwork."

Harry nodded, abashed, and stepped back so he was pressed against the wall once more.

After what seemed like forever, the Healer lowered his wand and nodded to one of the nurses, the redheaded one who had given Draco the potion. She went to the cupboard and removed a long length of gauze, then siphoned the remaining blood from Draco's arm and the floor surrounding it, then bandaged him tightly from wrist to elbow.

"You should go and get a coffee or something, love," the other, older nurse said to him kindly. "That potion won't wear off for a while yet."

Harry nodded his thanks and followed the directions to the canteen, buying for himself a large coffee in a Styrofoam cup that tasted more of Styrofoam than it did of coffee. He was completely shook up from the incident at the Manor, unaware that Draco was at any risk and unprepared for the consequences.

Back in Draco's room, only the older nurse remained. She'd changed Draco into a standard St Mungo's patient's nightdress that covered him to his knees. The white cotton blended seamlessly with Draco's white skin.

"He'll be in for a few days," the nurse said as Harry sat down in one of the visitor's chairs. "He lost a lot of blood so we'll need to keep him on a regular dose of _Sanguanasis_ potion to replace that."

"What about his arm?" Harry asked in a hoarse voice.

"It'll be fine, dear," she assured him. "The main problem was the curse, but Healer Buck is one of the best on the staff here. When we learned that it was a friend of yours being brought in we called him immediately."

"Thank you. Really. I appreciate it."

"No problem, Mr Potter."

He'd never given her his name, nor had he asked for hers. He felt incredibly guilty for this lapse in manners.

As the sun began to set through Draco's window there was a light knock on the door. Harry rose to answer it, but Ron let himself in anyway.

"Is he okay?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. It was a bit scary for a while, but he's stable now. I think."

"Good," Ron said. Harry studied his best friend. Seven years of knowing each other had its benefits.

"You knew something like this could have happened, didn't you?"

Ron flushed. "Well, there was always going to be a risk…"

"Don't bullshit me, Ron," Harry snapped. "How could you let him go in unprepared?"

"He was more prepared than any of us!" Ron argued. "You heard Stonestreet, it was some of the most complex protective magic the Auror office has ever seen, and Malfoy took it down like it was a simple _Alohomora!_ If anyone knew about the curses on the place it was going to be him."

"You know what they call that curse, Ron? A traitor's curse. A _traitor's_ curse. He went in there and played traitor to the Death Eaters for you lot and you just left him there to bleed to death!" Harry was yelling now and not caring.

"That was never going to happen!"

"How would you know? You buggered off before he was even stabilised!"

"That's why the medi-witch was there," Ron said, holding his ground. "We found them, by the way, if you even care. There were nearly thirty people being held hostage. It was only because the house elves had been given instructions to feed them before the Death Eaters left that they hadn't starved to death."

"Of course I care," Harry snapped. "It just wasn't fair to do that to Draco."

"To _Draco_?" Ron taunted him. "Draco is it, now?"

"I live with him!" Harry exclaimed. "Did you even stop to think what would happen to me if anything happened to him? To Bear? The poor child has lost enough people who love him already. I'm on my own now until he gets better!"

Ron looked slightly dismayed at this. "Mum will help you, you know that."

"That's not the point."

Ron sighed. "Look. I'm sorry he got hurt, I really am, but it was necessary to save all of those people. And he'll be fine."

"Sacrificed for the greater good, was he?"

"Don't, Harry. Don't make out I'm like them because I'm not. It was only Malfoy."

"Only Malfoy. Only a Death Eater. Doesn't matter if he _dies,_ because he's only one of them, right?"

"I'm not going to argue with you over him," Ron said stubbornly. "I really do hope he's okay. I'll see you later."

Ron left, softly closing the door behind him and Harry paced a few steps towards Draco's bed, growling and grumbling in the back of his throat. He stopped short when he noticed a pair of tired grey eyes watching his progress.

"You heard all of that, didn't you?" Harry asked, blushing.

"A lot of it, yeah." Draco's voice sounded tired.

"I'm sorry. How are you feeling?"

Draco stretched in bed, trying to sit up and Harry hurried over to help him. "Rough. And like... my magic isn't all there. Like it's not as strong as it usually is. Does that make sense?"

"I suppose so," Harry said. "It's probably because you lost so much blood."

"Yeah. You didn't have to stick up for me. I know he's your best mate."

"Ron and I have never had a problem with telling each other when the other is wrong," Harry said wryly.

Draco snorted with laughter. "Yeah, I'd noticed. Harry - where's Bear? Can you bring him here? I want to see him."

"I'll check with the Healer if I'm allowed to bring him in," Harry said, understanding the need for the comfort Bear seemed to bring to their lives.

Since Draco was still tired, Harry left him to sleep for a while and made his way down to the Floo point in the main entrance to the hospital. He was surprised to note that the night had fallen around them, then not surprised at all. It felt like years since they'd left the house that morning.

Harry could have sworn he heard Bear's cries before he even stuck his head in the fire. As it was, he didn't wait for an answer to his call and just let himself through the Floo; any manners forgotten in the wake of the high, desperate wailing of his child. _The child in his care_. Harry quickly amended the thought then pushed it to the back of his head.

"Molly," he called out, walking through the kitchen to the living room where his makeshift mother figure was pacing a line in the carpet, bouncing the screaming baby on her shoulder.

She smiled at him with a gentle, wry smile that indicated she'd done this many, many times before. Harry held out his hands and she passed Bear over; he moved the baby to his own shoulder with a soothing hand on his back.

"There you go," Harry murmured. "Harry's got you now.

"How's he been?" he said to Molly.

"Only like that for a little while. He slept for a couple of hours, then seemed to get upset." Molly didn't seem to be too bothered and since she was the ruling authority on all things baby related, Harry believed her.

It didn't take too long for Bear to settle in Harry's arms.

"There," he said softly. "You just missed me, didn't you?"

Harry brushed a kiss over the baby's forehead and inhaled his specific, warm baby smell.

"What's the plan?" Molly asked. "Ron called and told me what happened to Draco. Is there even a plan?"

Harry shrugged and attempted to sit down on the edge of the sofa. Bear immediately started wailing again so he stood with a sigh and resumed his pacing.

"I'll go home, get him changed then take him back to the hospital. I want to pick up a few things for Draco while I'm there."

"Will he be alright? You know I'm here to help if you need me."

"Yeah. I think so. Thanks. And just… thanks for everything, Molly. I really appreciate it."

"That's what I'm here for," she said, blushing slightly.

Bear was still fussing but Harry said his goodbyes and Flooed back home. He took his time feeding and changing the baby, making sure he was comfortable in their routine in an attempt to get him to settle. Once dressed – in an all-in-one suit with bear ears - he grabbed a few things for Draco and headed back out to the hospital, only vaguely aware that he hadn't eaten since breakfast.

Draco was awake when Harry knocked on the door, griping to a nurse about the meal that she'd set down in front of him.

"I don't want this," he whined, pushing the tray away.

The nurse started to make vague noises about keeping his strength up, but when she spotted Harry she looked relieved and passed the responsibility for getting Draco to eat on to him.

"Cheers," Harry mumbled as she left in a rush of blue fabric. "Are you behaving yourself?" he directed to his blond companion.

Draco ignored him and stretched his hands out for Bear. Harry reluctantly handed the baby over and shifted the tray of unappetising hospital food back so it didn't spill over the sheets.

"There you go," Draco crooned as Bear's hair turned from auburn to silvery- white blonde. "Such a pretty baby."

"That's the only reason why he does that," Harry said crossly. "Because you tell him he's pretty when he looks like you."

Draco snorted with laughter and pulled the itchy neck of the gown to one side so Bear could snuggle against his skin.

"Was he good for Mrs Weasley?" he asked.

"No," Harry said. "He was screaming his head off when I got there."

"Good boy," Draco whispered, his eyes shining with mischief. Harry didn't reprimand him- anything that made Draco smile at the moment was a good thing.

"I, uh brought you a few things, your toothbrush and this." Harry pulled out one of Draco's long sleeved t- shirts. The hospital issue nightgown was only short sleeved and even though his forearm was bandaged up, covering the Mark from sight, Harry thought he might be more comfortable in the familiar t- shirt.

"Thanks," Draco said softly. He looked down at where the baby was now sleeping on his chest. "I'll change later."

It was strange, and terrifying, being in the house alone with the baby all night. It was even worse knowing that his only support, his fellow parent figure was lying in hospital, still battling with the after effects of a traitor's curse. Harry had spoken extensively with Healer Buck before he left St Mungo's that evening, wanting to know all he could about the long term implications on Draco's magic and how it could affect him in the future. In the end Healer Buck had sent Harry home with a Calming Draught and told him to get a good night's sleep. Draco would be fine with time and rest.

He'd gone to bed world weary, and woken to Bear's cries after a restless sleep.

The next few days were spent going back and forth to the hospital, juggling caring for Bear and for Draco, trying to entertain both boys who seemed to be entirely bored both in and out of his presence. Draco was refusing to eat the food the hospital was providing for him meaning on top of everything else, Harry was trying to provide three meals a day for all three of them.

After he'd fallen asleep in the hospital's standard plastic hospital room chair for the third time, one of the nurses took pity on him and brought a new bed in so he could catch a few hours sleep while Draco played with Bear. Having not got out of bed since the accident, Draco was growing weaker instead of stronger and it was mostly due to this that the Healers decided to bring forward his discharge date. The nurse who had been so kind to both Harry and Draco when he'd been admitted had been assigned Draco to her care.

"Nurse Wallensby wants you," Draco said as Harry Apparated into his room on the fourth day he'd been in the hospital.

"Okay," Harry said, dumping Bear and a pile of toys onto Draco's bed. "I'll go find her."

Nurse Wallensby had a pile of potions, salve and instructions for Harry on how to treat Draco when he got home. Excessive stress and activity had been banned and the dressings on his arm needed to be changed daily.

"Come on," she said, packing everything into a white paper bag for Harry and passing him the handles. "I'll show you."

Draco had refused to look at the mangled flesh on his arm, and while fighting nausea back Harry couldn't blame him. Where there once was a snake and skull tattoo, now there was open sores, clotted blood and half scabbed skin. Nurse Wallensby merrily slapped a thick yellow salve over the top of the mess with a cheerfully instructed 'don't be stingy with it!' and showed Harry how to tightly wrap the bandages up again.

"Every evening, before bed if you can," she said, replacing the lid on the jar and putting it in the white bag of potions. "It'll help with the healing and give him some relief from the itching for when he's asleep."

"Go over the potions again?" Harry asked, causing Draco to groan loudly and slump back against his pillows. Harry hit his shoulder and ignored him.

"The red one with meals," Nurse Wallensby said with a small grin. "For building strength and muscle tone. Blue one with the white label twice a day. Calming Draught for whenever you need it, either of you, really, and the black one with the floaty bits in it before bed."

"Floaty bits," Draco repeated, shaking his head.

"You!" the nurse said, poking Draco out of bed. "Go home and don't come back, do you hear me?"

"Yes, Nurse," he said cheekily, then enveloped her in a brief hug with his good arm. "Thank you."

"No problem. Now, shoo."

Draco was only slightly less miserable at home than he was in hospital. Harry restricted the amount of time he would let Draco study for his NEWTs, which made him grumpy, and the amount of time he spent with Bear, making him grumpier still. Molly took to coming over for Bear ever afternoon after she'd cleared up from lunch, taking him back to The Burrow for a couple of hours, leaving Harry time for himself. Time that he mostly spent sleeping or in his new favourite hide- out, the back office at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

George was only working part time and had hired an unlikely shop manager in Angelina Johnson's older sister, Mary- Anne, which only half explained why Angelina had been staying at his flat, but Harry hadn't managed to get any more information out of George and he was loathed to pry.

Mary- Anne liked Harry and was fond of his presence; she was the eldest of the Johnson brood with two brothers between her and Angelina, meaning she was used to the big extended family atmosphere that the Weasley's encompassed. With her short, spiky hair and loud laugh, she was a hit with children who loved her and parents who admired her stamina.

Even when he wasn't on duty in the shop, George could be found in the office most days, working on the books or exploring new stock potentials. Mary- Anne had confided in Harry that all of Fred and George's own inventions had been put on hold and their makeshift lab was gathering dust where George refused to allow anyone enter it. Again, Harry could understand. It was an effort for him not to turn Grimmauld Place into a shrine to Sirius, the fact that his godfather had hated the house helped, though.

"Wotcher, Harry," Mary- Anne called as he walked through the orange door a week after Draco had been discharged. Harry immediately smiled at the greeting.

"Hey," he said on a fit of inspiration, "I don't suppose you knew Nymphadora Tonks, did you?"

"Yeah, I did actually," she said. "She was a couple of years ahead of me at school. Ravenclaw? Metamorphmagus. I wanted to _be _her. She was so cool. She died in the war, you know."

Harry nodded. "She was a friend," he said, wondering whether to tell this new friend about Tonks' son. "She always used to say 'wotcher' to me too."

"It's so sad. You can't turn the corner these days without meeting someone who lost someone."

"What about your family?" Harry asked.

Mary- Anne shrugged. "I was a Slytherin. My father works for Gringotts and my mum is a seamstress. My brothers were in Hufflepuff... I don't know. The Death Eaters tried to recruit my dad but he said no; he wasn't one of them but he wasn't going to run away from them either."

Harry nodded, realising that the Johnson family was one of those nameless, faceless families that they'd been fighting to save; neither Death Eaters nor Order members, just ordinary people that deserved freedom. Mary- Anne smiled and rubbed Harry's shoulder reassuringly, almost as if she'd sensed his melancholy.

"George is out the back," she said and Harry thanked her, winding through the shop to find his friend.

George was, once again, hunched over a pile of paperwork in his little office, being watched over by a small framed photograph of his twin in his House Quidditch uniform. Harry shut the door behind him and sat down without being asked, waiting for George to be done.

"What's on your mind, bro?" George asked as the Fred in the photograph clearly mouthed the word 'wanker' at him.

Harry snorted with laughter, then quickly sobered. "I... uh... wanted to talk to you about something."

"Cold bath in salt water, and if that doesn't work, St Mungo's," George said immediately.

"What?" Harry thought it over and blushed. "Oh. No. Everything in that department is working fine. It's um..."

"Spit it out, for God's sake, Potter."

"I think I'm gay," Harry said in a rush.

George adopted a pose of serious contemplation, leaning forward on his elbows and tenting his fingers under his chin. "Well. There's no denying that you're an attractive lad, but I do have a bit of a thing for breasts, so..."

"I don't fancy _you_, you great pillock."

"I know that," George said, laughing and sitting back. "Just making light of the situation. I hate to sound blasé here, Harry, but so what?"

Harry faltered. "But... I'm not going to get back with Ginny, and I might end up with a bloke, and..."

"Harry, chill! Seriously, you're going to give yourself a heart attack."

Harry watched in silence as George stood and left the little office, returning a few minutes later with two cups of tea.

"Mum always said tea is best in stressful situations," he said with an apologetic smile. "You think I'd be sick of it with the amount that's been forced down my neck recently, but... Well. In regards to your little gay crisis, I think tea is the best solution."

"Ron and Ginny will go mental."

George cocked his head to the side. "Maybe. Maybe not. Ron's your best mate. If he's gone seven years and not noticed that you've got homosexual tendencies, then he's really not been paying attention. Gin is... well... Ginny wasn't ever for _you_, Harry."

"What do you mean?" he asked, sipping his too sweet tea.

"You've spent so much of your life doing stuff for other people. Over and over again, and it must be exhausting. The thing you had with Ginny was never for you, it was for her. She wanted you, so you gave her you - if that makes sense.

"What I mean is, if you've found someone who's just for you, and no one else, well, I think you deserve a bit of that."

"Hmm."

"Fred used to say that there was no such thing as being straight or gay, we're just all on this sliding scale of bisexuality. You could spend your whole life thinking you like girls, then one guy who you might have known for years comes along and changes everything."

There was a sparkle in George's eye, a gentle smirk tugging at his lips that Harry interpreted as the other man knowing far, far more than he was letting on.

"Oh fuck, you know who I'm talking about, don't you?" Harry said wearily.

George burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, mate, I really am. But your face is just precious."

"Please don't tell anyone?"

"Tell anyone what?"

"Thanks, George."

"Any time. Now get out behind my counter. Your face sells funny stuff faster than anything else I've come across in three years in this business."

Harry snorted and put his empty mug down on the desk, accepting the dismissal as what it really was - George's acceptance. _One Weasley sibling down,_ he thought grimly. _Five more to go._


	9. The Noble and Most Ancient Art of

_A/N: I really don't have an infinite number of chapters backed up to be able to keep doing the twice- weekly update thing. But I do have enough backed up to do it every now and then.  
This whole story is still unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine. I do, however, have a pre- reader who is telling me to hurry up with the smut. She's on your side, apparently._

* * *

Chapter 9- The Noble and Most Ancient Art of Palmistry

The few hours of work that Harry had done at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had helped to clear his head; it was a much needed distraction as well as a chance to get out of the house. While Draco recovered at home he could surround himself with children and mischievous young adults, spending his time laughing and enjoying the company of others rather than listening to his housemate's complaints. Draco was not a very patient patient.

He arrived back in his living room with a tired ache in his muscles earned from stacking shelves with decoy detonators and exploding toilet seats (a new range, for the Winter Collection). Sprawled on the floor in front of the fire, Draco had several potions books propped up against various objects and was scribbling frantically with his good hand.

"Harry!" he said excitedly, scrambling to his feet. "Why didn't you tell me about the library? I could have done with some of these books weeks ago."

Harry shook his head. "I wasn't aware of a library here."

Draco frowned, disbelieving.

"I promise," Harry continued. "Same as I didn't know about the basement, or the garden…" He stopped, contemplating all the changes that had happened to the house since Draco moved in. The doors banging to wake Harry up during Draco's nightmare, but mysteriously not disturbing the baby. How Draco's room had repaired itself.

"What?" Draco demanded.

"Draco," Harry said slowly. "How would you feel about talking to the portrait of Sirius' mother?"

Draco shrugged. "Okay. But I thought you said she was crazy."

"She is. But something tells me that she would like you."

He decided on taking all precautions and retrieved his Invisibility Cloak from the bottom of his trunk where it had lived since he had returned to London. He sat at the top of the stairs, unseen from both Walburga Black and Draco as the latter gently tugged back the curtains covering the old lady's portrait.

"Mrs Black?" Draco said tentatively, and Harry thought that it wasn't going to work as the wild woman came into view: her hair a mess, as always, eyes rolling, tongue lolling, preparing to scream and he covered his ears, waiting for a wail that never came.

"You're a pure blood," were the first sane words from the woman's mouth.

Draco nodded politely. "Yes, ma'am. My name is Draco Malfoy. My mother is Narcissa Malfoy, née Black."

"Ah," she said knowingly. "One of mine."

"Yes, ma'am," he said again. "May I call you Great Aunt?"

"You may," the old woman replied haughtily, adjusting her dress around her knees.

Harry sat, and watched, gobsmacked.

"Where is that awful ruffian currently inhabiting my family home?" Mrs Black continued.

"Mr Potter is here somewhere," Draco answered. He kept his hands folded behind his back, held low to push his broad shoulders out and chin up. He'd changed into another set of ridiculously expensive dress robes, to make a good impression, Harry decided.

"Oh," Mrs Black sounded disappointed. "I hoped you would have killed him. Or thrown him out."

"I'm afraid not, Great Aunt," Draco said. "Unfortunately the law does not recognise me as legally entitled to the house."

"Ah, but the house does," said Mrs Black mischievously.

"It does," Draco said, tilting his head to the side and Harry was screaming at him in his head to elaborate, but the blond man was clearly ignoring him.

"Certain areas of the house will only reveal themselves to a worthy owner," Mrs Black continued. "My son was shut out from many rooms after I disinherited him. But the house knows, boy. The house knows."

"The basement? And the library?"

"You've inherited my father's talent for Potions," Mrs Black said. "He was a great Potions Maker, he owned the largest Apothecary and Potions Emporium on Diagon Alley, and another on Knockturn. It's a dying art, boy. Do not let your talent go to waste."

"I shan't," Draco agreed.

"The house will continue to help you. Treat it well, and it will reciprocate."

"Of course, Great Aunt."

"I'm tired, now," Mrs Black said, smoothing down her skirts again. "Come talk to me again, boy. I like you. And I haven't liked anybody in a long, long time."

"Farewell, Great Aunt," Draco said in what Harry thought was his poshest of posh voices and carefully tugged the curtains back across the expanse of canvas.

Harry pulled the cloak from around his shoulders. "Bloody hell."

"Well, that explains a lot," Draco said sarcastically, pulling at the neck of his robes.

"The conversation?"

"No. The fact that you own a bloody invisibility cloak."

Harry smirked. "I thought the conversation was rather enlightening, myself."

"You would," Draco said. "Hang on, let me get out of these awful things. I'll meet you in the living room in a minute."

It was more like half an hour later, after Harry had been to collect Bear from Molly's and settled him down in his squashy chair with a cracker to play with and chew on with toothless gums. Draco refused to let him gather up all of the books from the library, insisting that Harry would just put them back in the wrong places. So Harry was forced to wait.

"I want a run down of every dirty and deprived thing you've ever done in that cloak," Draco said as he re-entered the room in loose sweatpants and his ever present long sleeved t- shirt.

"It's a very short list," Harry admitted.

"I was afraid of that," Draco said with a dramatic sigh, flopping into his armchair and holding his left arm out for Harry to fix the dressings on it.

Harry rolled his eyes but pulled the now tattered white paper bag out from under the coffee table.

"Would be easier if you took your shirt off," he commented casually, as he did every night while rolling the long sleeve up to Draco's elbow.

"Nope," Draco responded. As he did every night.

"You can't keep this up forever," Harry said, a variation of which he said every night.

"Yes I can. Get on with it."

Unwrapping the bandages took longer than anything else; the wound was still not completely healed meaning Harry had to carefully peel fabric from skin to avoid pulling and damaging it more. He was only half successful in his attempts, although he was getting better, but Draco griped and moaned through most of the procedure.

"Wanna look at it?" Harry asked as he gently cleaned the scabby, mauled flesh with a stream of warm water from his wand.

Draco sighed heavily. "You sound more and more like Miranda every day."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Harry said, smirking.

"It wasn't meant as one."

Harry pretended not to notice as Draco gently tugged his wrist from Harry's gentle grip.

"Oh my god, that's disgusting," he gasped.

"It looks a lot better than it did a couple of days ago," Harry said reasonably.

"Well I'm glad I didn't look at it a couple of days ago, then," he snapped. His voice softened: "Please cover it up."

"I think it's going to scar, you know." Harry's voice was gentle as he broke the news.

"You don't say," Draco said sarcastically.

"It'll heal up soon enough."

"And it's not like I'm not covered in scars anyway."

"What I meant…" Harry's voice faltered. "Is that I think, maybe, when it scars, you won't be able to see the Mark any more."

Draco was very still, and very silent as he thought about this.

"Really?" he asked eventually.

"I don't know for sure," Harry said in a rush. "I might be wrong."

"Can you – can you see it at the moment?"

"No," he said honestly. "It's hidden under all of the scabbing." Harry worked with the easy efficiency borne of doing the task over and over.

"I really want it gone," Draco admitted in a whisper.

"I know," Harry said, knowing how much this admission would have cost the other man. He finished tying the bandage tightly around Draco's wrist, not too tight that it cut his circulation off though (he'd learnt that lesson very early on). After rolling his sleeve back down, Harry took Draco's hand in between both of his own, absently tracing the soft grooves in his palm.

"Don't bother," Draco said in a low voice. "You were crap at Divination."

Harry jerked his hand away, blushing. He felt very much like a small child, sat cross legged on the floor at the feet of a much wiser man who smiled at him and took his hand in the same manner, holding it so the light fell on the palm.

"You really do have an uncommonly short life line," Draco said, tracing it with a blunt fingertip.

"Wrong subject," Harry laughed. "That's History of Magic, not Divination."

Draco snorted. "I don't think Binns teaches anything that happened less than two hundred years ago."

"It's all cold reading, anyway."

"True," Draco acquiesced.

"Tell me about my heart line," Harry said, then regretted it immediately.

Draco carefully folded the fingers back around Harry's palm, making a fist which he passed back to the other man, shaking his head.

"You tell me."

"Despite what you may have heard, it doesn't hold many stories."

"Is that changing?" Draco asked in the first reference he'd made to the _thing_ between them.

"Yeah," Harry said, looking up to meet Draco's gaze. "I think it might be."

xXx

Having recently discovered his voice, Bear seemed to think that any moment not spent using it was a moment wasted, so feeding him was an artful business of trying to shove a spoon in his mouth when it was open. Not that Bear was particularly inclined to close his mouth once food was in it. They had learned, quickly, that there was no point in getting the baby dressed before he'd had his breakfast.

"Alright, we're done here," Harry decided, wiping the excess mush from the baby's face with a soft cloth and hoisting him out of the high chair and on to his hip.

He crossed Draco in the hall, who had dressed in a painfully stylish combination of dark jeans and soft grey jumper. Harry spared him a smile as Bear started singing to himself again, then carried on up to the nursery.

"You," Harry told the baby, lying him down on the changing table, "are trouble."

Bear gurgled as Harry tickled his tummy.

Harry had a fair idea of what Draco's routine with the baby consisted of as he watched it most mornings through the _conspectus_ charm. They did things differently, of course, but Bear never seemed to mind who it was who got the delightful job of morning activities.

Once he was once again clean and free from food mush, Harry lifted the baby down on to the floor where he sat, back against the wall with his legs in a wide V shape, Bear sat between them. They had amassed a huge collection of 'learning' toys, but Bear was just as satisfied with a long, involved game of peek-a-boo, or Harry's truly awful attempts of singing nursery rhymes. It was also Harry's way of checking that Bear was hitting what Molly called his 'milestones'; that he was sitting unaided and making his first attempts to crawl.

A loud knock at the door made Bear look up in shock, although Harry was no longer concerned about the screaming portrait in the hallway. Since Draco's first interaction with Mrs Black the old woman seemed much more placid than she was previously. Repeated conversations with the 'true Black heir' seemed to pacify her and she no longer screamed at every intruder. She still screamed at some, of course, just not all of them.

"Wonder who that is, hmm?" Harry said and stood, lifting Bear back on to his hip again.

As he jogged back down the stairs he caught Draco's panicked eyes as he lead two women through. Harry's heart dropped to his stomach.

"Madame O'Connell," Harry said, searching for the name of the witch who'd lead Bear's custody hearing. He smiled at Ruth, the nurse with whom they had regular check-ups on Bear's growth and development.

"Mr Potter," she said courteously.

Draco fussed around with formal introductions and offers of tea, then threw Harry to the wolves and left him alone with the two women to lead them up to the living room as he disappeared into the kitchen.

"Sorry about the mess," Harry apologised sheepishly as he tried to find a place for everyone to sit. "We weren't expecting company."

He strapped Bear into his squashy chair and gave him a few brightly coloured toys to play with, then sat on the edge of Draco's arm chair. He let the women take the sofa, and he wasn't about to sit on the floor.

Draco strode into the room, his back ramrod straight and looking for all the world like the pureblood heir that he had been trained to be, even without his dark robes. He placed the tea on the table and stood back.

"Apologies for the delay, ladies. We do not own an elf."

"Mr Malfoy," Ruth said softly, putting her hand on his shoulder. Draco jerked back in surprise. "You're not in trouble. As well as scheduled home visits we often call on parents and guardians unexpectedly to get a better idea of your regular, day to day routine."

Draco nodded, his eyes still wide and untrusting as the women reached for their tea. He looked around at the mess in the room, then crossed his arms over his body and threw them out to the sides again, wandlessly sending everything back to its proper place. Seemingly satisfied, he grabbed his own teacup and sat down next to Harry.

Only then did he notice the look of utter shock on both women's faces.

"What? Did I do something wrong?"

Madame O'Connell seemed to pull herself together first.

"That was some very powerful magic, Mr Malfoy."

Draco just shrugged. "I don't like mess."

Harry rolled his eyes where Draco couldn't see them and addressed his unexpected guests. "Really. Apologies about the house. With Draco studying for his NEWTs and all of Bear's stuff, this room gets a little cluttered at times."

"This is your main living space?" Madame O'Connell asked, looking around.

"Yes," Harry agreed. He was rather proud of the room he'd redecorated; warm, sage green walls and white trimming were both elegant and masculine. Draco's armchair was deep brown leather, of course, and dark wood furniture dominated the space with a Welsh dresser and small bookcase. The carpets were stone coloured - a decision that was made long before he knew there would be an infant living with him.

"It's lovely in here," Ruth said with a small smile.

"Thanks."

"So," Madame O'Connell said brusquely. "How do you feel you're coping?"

Harry felt Draco shiver next to him, and laid a surreptitious hand on the middle of the other man's back for half a second.

"I think we've settled into a routine," Harry started hesitantly. Ruth nodded encouragingly and he continued, emboldened. "Bear seems to be doing well, he's happy."

"Are you happy, Mr Potter?"

The question caught him off guard. "I'm getting there," he said. "It's not easy. But I love my godson very much."

"And you, Mr Malfoy?"

"I am in good health, thank you."

Harry got the impression that Draco was falling back on old habits, pureblood training and etiquette that had been drilled into him since his childhood. He hadn't seen the other man so uptight and formal since the first few days that they'd been living together.

"Well," Madame O'Connell said. "I have reports here from Dr Stevenson…"

"Miranda," Draco mouthed up at Harry, who nodded. Madame O'Connell produced a large folder from her bag which she thumbed through absently as she spoke.

"She feels that this situation is extremely beneficial to your progress and mental health. Teddy has given you an outlet in which to explore your emotions in a safe environment and your relationship with Mr Potter is an opportunity for a safe and healthy friendship where you will not be tempted into any Dark activity."

Harry couldn't help but feel incredibly uncomfortable as Draco was analysed like this - like he wasn't there, listening to her every word.

"I want to talk about your connection to the Auror office, Mr Malfoy."

Draco nodded. "I found myself in a position where I was able to help the Ministry on a case. In return for my services I negotiated with a senior in that office for reduced sentences for both my parents."

"You were injured in the course of that assignment," Ruth added softly.

Draco nodded again and extended his left arm. "I found myself on the receiving end of a traitor's curse," he said grimly. "I understand very few have survived; it is rare for a person cursed in this way to be given immediate medical assistance. I owe my life to the swift action of your colleagues, Ruth."

Madame O'Connell nodded at this. "Do you anticipate being called on again in the future?"

"No," Draco said, his tone closing the subject. Madame O'Connell nodded again.

"Could we talk about babysitters?"

Harry decided this was his arena. "We don't ask anyone to watch him very often. If we do it would normally be Molly or George Weasley."

"And they're friends of the family?"

Harry shook his head. "They're _family_."

After a tour of the house to show how much renovation had been done, Madame O'Connell and Ruth left with warm, comforting smiles. Bear was starting to look sleepy so Draco summoned one of his bottles from the kitchen and the three of them curled up on the sofa together.

"I was scared that they were going to take him away from us," Draco said softly.

"You worry too much."

"It's nice, in a way, though."

"How do you mean?" Harry asked, scratching the back of his neck absently.

"I've got someone to worry about again."

xXx

A light, tentative knock on his door woke Harry in the middle of the night.

"Yeah?" he croaked and snuggled into the warm spot beneath his sheets.

The door opened and a form he recognised as Draco even in the dark, and without his glasses on, stepped into the room and closed the door with a quiet click. Harry blinked a few times as Draco put his back to the door and slid down it to wrap his arms around his knees.

"Draco? You alright?"

"Nightmare," was all Draco said in a haunted whisper.

Harry hesitated then threw back the duvet to make room for the other man. He was too far away, and his eyesight was too poor to judge Draco's reaction, but Harry wasn't about to let him sit on the damn floor all night and he was still tired and wanted to go back to sleep.

For long seconds it looked like Draco was going to ignore his silent offer, then he scrambled into the warm bed, although as far away from Harry as was physically possible.

"Do you ever take this thing off?" Harry asked, tugging at the t- shirt.

Draco shook his head, hiding behind blonde hair that was starting to get too long again.

"Want to talk about it?"

"I really don't."

He curled up into a tight ball, folding in on himself. Harry left him alone for a few moments until Draco started to shake again. Then he reached out a tentative hand, taking Draco's undamaged arm and tugging on it, pulling him into his chest. Draco resisted, almost violently pulling back.

"Come here," Harry insisted. Draco shook his head. "Please? I can't watch you like this."

He expected some of Draco's usual bile in response, but got none, just a tentative arm sneaking around his waist. Harry huffed in annoyance.

"If you can't bring the mountain to Mohammed," he muttered.

"Who?"

"You need to brush up on your Muggle sayings." Harry wrapped both of his arms around Draco's chest, and the other man snuggled in, tucking his head under Harry's chin and breathing deeply. "If you can't bring the mountain to Mohammed, then Mohammed must go to the mountain. Or something like that."

"Oh. Okay. Why don't you wear a t- shirt in bed?" a small voice asked.

Harry smiled into soft, nice smelling blonde hair. "I never have."

"Even at school?"

"No."

"Oh."

Silence. "I don't like wearing clothes in bed at all, really, but it's cold at the moment," he elaborated without further prompting, explaining his long pyjama bottoms. Draco insinuated his cold feet between Harry's warm ones, making the latter hiss in annoyance.

"It is winter," Draco said.

"I'd noticed."

More silence.

A soft voice: "Take it off, Draco."

"No."

"It's the middle of the night and I haven't got my glasses on. I can't see a bloody thing. Take it off."

Slowly, incredibly slowly, the arm around Harry's waist moved, he rolled away then sat up, reaching behind his head to grab the back of the t- shirt then carefully folding it before setting it down on Harry's bedside table. When he laid down again Harry was treated to the feel of bare skin next to his own bare skin; new and all the more terrifying for whose skin it was.

"What do we do now?" Draco whispered.

"Go to sleep?"

Sleep was the very last thing on his mind.

"I don't think so."

Harry's heart skipped a beat. Feeling like he was the one who needed to take the initiative here (he had told Draco to take his t- shirt off, after all), he rolled Draco on to his back and shifted to hover just over the pale body beneath him, his weight balanced on his forearm.

"Is this okay?" Harry whispered.

Draco regarded him with dark eyes, nodding almost imperceptibly, then leaned up to steal Harry's kiss. Soft, tentative, and all too brief.

"Did you really have a nightmare?" Harry whispered.

"Yes." The word wasn't petulant, or spat out in harsh tones like Harry was expecting. It was a sole, scared word, a twist in the gut admission of weakness. Harry was going to ask what about, then Draco answered the question for him. A cold hand laced over the top of his warm one and it moved from the relatively safe space created by the curve of Draco's spine to the jutting angle of his hip.

"She broke this," Draco explained, pushing Harry's fingers into the lumpy, broken bone. He knew instinctively who 'she' was, and was furious that the miserable bitch was dead, and that Harry wouldn't be able to take the vindictive pleasure of killing her himself. "And these," Draco continued. Harry's hand was moved up to the xylophone arches of rib bones and could feel, here too, bones left to heal without any medical intervention.

"Draco, I-"

"Don't say it. Don't pity me, please."

"Okay."

"Would you kiss me again?"

Harry smiled and leaned in to fit his mouth to Draco's. There was a reason why they did this when they were drunk, or fighting, or in the dark; it was much, much easier to hide whatever else either of them might be feeling. Like the little knot of something that had lodged itself up under Harry's ribcage. He was scared that might translate on to his face, so it was for the best that Draco couldn't see him.

Draco whimpered into the kiss and his hand reached up to tentatively wrap around Harry's back. Harry responded instinctively, arching into the touch and flicking his tongue out to find out what Draco's lips tasted of tonight.

Mint. And smoke.

It was okay when Draco rolled Harry over and pressed him into the mattress, forcing the evidence of their combined arousal to the forefront of this kissing experiment. There was a choice - to back off and leave this for another time, or to follow it through to its climatic conclusion.

Draco's fingers danced over the waistband of Harry's pyjama bottoms, asking permission for the next step; the fabric had already slipped too low on his hipbones. Harry rolled his hips in what must have been acquiescence because suddenly he was bare to his knees and a warm hand had enclosed his already throbbing cock.

Their kisses became punctuated with cries for more, gasps of pleasure and deep, guttural groans as Draco worked his cock in short, hard bursts and thrust his own erection against Harry's thigh. It was dirty and messy and stolen; nothing belonged to either of them, it didn't fit or make sense, but somehow it did and that was just them.

Harry's back arched off the bed as he came, soaking Draco's hand in wet, sticky fluid that was smeared down his length for more gentle pulls that blurred his vision and painted white spots behind his eyes. Teeth on his shoulder and wet fabric pressed against his thigh and a hot, sweaty, shivering body above him was all the proof he needed that Draco had come too.

As his heart thundered in his ribcage Harry pressed his lips to Draco's forehead while the other man cast a cleaning spell that made him shiver against the cold. With an arm anchoring Draco to his chest, Harry pulled the duvet up over them both and hoped that the other man would join him in a sated, dreamless sleep.


	10. The Most Slytherin Patronus

Chapter 10- The Most Slytherin Patronus

Following the meeting with Madame O'Connell and Ruth, an appointment arrived by owl for Bear for a check- up at St Mungo's. Draco needed an appointment with his Healer about his arm so they decided to try and visit Andromeda as well, all on the same morning. It took Draco much huffing and whining through the Floo, and 'yes, but he's Harry bloody Potter,'- ing before it was all finally arranged, while Harry watched in amusement from the sofa with Bear napping in his arms.

"Don't swear in front of the baby," Harry scolded lightly.

"Fuck off."

Harry snorted with laughter. "Is it all sorted?"

"Yeah. Finally." Draco rose and went to sit in his chair.

"Thanks."

Draco acknowledged the thanks with a half hearted shrug and Summoned his homework.

The next morning was full of yelling and remembering things and fussing back and forth; Harry writing lists of questions and forgetting where he'd left them and Draco trying to pacify Mrs Black in the hallway while Harry yelled at him for stalling.

"She's bloody nuts," Harry sighed as they flopped into uncomfortable hospital waiting room chairs to wait for their appointment for Bear, with Ruth.

"She's not nuts, she's just old and… pureblood," Draco said with a shrug. He bounced Bear on his knee to make him laugh.

"We never talked about your date with her the other day," Harry said, teasing.

"What can I say? She likes that I'm there because it means she can be smug and superior and matriarchal. Not because she actually _likes _me."

"And the house?"

"Well. It sucks to be you, first of all."

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed.

"Maybe you should consider signing the house over to me. Who knows what else we might discover." It was Draco's turn to tease now, a light, funny side of the man that Harry had discovered he actually quite liked.

"Never in a million years."

Draco laughed. A woman sitting opposite them stared.

"You should ask her what else the house is hiding," Harry continued.

Draco hummed in what Harry took to be agreement. Fortunately, before the woman who was staring so much she hadn't noticed her own baby screaming actually called the _Prophet_ photographer herself, Ruth stuck her head out of her office door and called them inside.

For the sake of continuity, she had been assigned to be Bear's regular nurse as well as the Ministry's advisor in matters relating to the child's safety and overall health. Harry didn't mind this one bit; the petite, brunette woman was a calm, reassuring sort of person who he didn't mind expressing his concerns to.

"I'm sorry about the surprise visit," Ruth said as she took Bear from Draco. "I wouldn't normally attend one, but since I'm your appointed child protection nurse as well…"

"It's fine," Harry said, but Draco looked concerned.

"Because of me?" he asked.

"No, because of both of you," Ruth said lightly. "Lenore came under a huge amount of pressure when she filed the paperwork for leaving a child in the custody of two eighteen year olds. No matter who those eighteen year olds might be. You're all under very close Ministry supervision."

Draco nodded, seemingly appeased. As Ruth turned away with Bear, taking him to the small bed, Harry mouthed 'you okay?' Draco nodded again and looked pointedly at where Ruth was encouraging Bear to sit unaided as she performed a series of diagnostic spells.

"I've been reading up on Metamorphmagi," Ruth said. "I've never treated one before. It's fascinating. They're so rare."

"I don't know much at all," Draco said. "I never knew his mother, unlike Harry."

Ruth smiled, warming to her subject. "The magical community in Britain only sees one born once every few years. In the whole world, there's maybe only two or three born each year, so you can appreciate how rare it is to get a child as a case study like this. What's even more special about Teddy is that he inherited his abilities from his mother, who I understand was a very accomplished witch in her own right. I've researched her family tree somewhat, and there's no other mentions of Metamorphmagi right back down the line. When these sorts of abilities are passed from mother to child they usually become increasingly powerful.

"If I'm not very much mistaken, this little one is going to be extraordinarily skilled. He's the only one of his kind alive in the whole world today."

"Wow," Draco said softly.

"Sorry." Ruth blushed furiously as she turned back to Bear. "I'm probably boring you."

"No, no, it's fascinating," Draco insisted.

"Well, he's perfectly healthy, if a little bit overweight," Ruth continued in a more businesslike tone. "Does he eat okay?"

"Like a horse," Harry confirmed.

She smiled. "Watch him with sweet things, if you can. Does he still take a bottle?"

"At night, and sometimes in the day if he wants it."

"Don't take him off them just yet, especially at night. It's a familiar thing for him and probably allows you more time to bond with him."

Ruth went on to quiz both Harry and Draco about Bear's motor skills, his reactions and abilities, making meticulous notes of all their answers. Harry was starting to get anxious about making Draco's appointment by the time she was done and they scrambled to get all of their things together in order to rush upstairs.

"I'd love to keep seeing him once he goes back to his grandmother," Ruth said as they stood at the door to her office. "Would you mention it for me?"

Draco looked like he'd been slapped.

"Of course," Harry choked. "Sorry, we really do have to rush…"

It had hit him like a punch to the gut, too. Bear wasn't theirs to keep. Andromeda would surely want her grandson back as soon as she was strong enough to take care of him again… A quick glance over at Draco told Harry that he was thinking the exact same thing.

To his surprise, Draco was met with a Healer rather than a nurse for his appointment.

"I want to check for lingering traces of the curse," Healer 'Call- Me- Hattie' Donovan said with a smile that showed too many teeth. '_Like a horse'_, Draco would whisper when the Healer's back was turned, causing Harry to bite his cheek so hard he tasted blood in an attempt to stop himself laughing out loud.

Draco sat very still as the diagnostic spells were run, Harry leaning back against the opposite wall with Bear in his arms so as not to get in the way.

"Hmm," the Healer said with a small frown creasing her forehead. "Would you mind waiting here a moment?"

Draco looked panicked. Harry gently bounced Bear in his arms and made a soft shushing sound, hoping to comfort both boys.

"It'll be fine," Harry said reassuringly after Call- Me- Hattie had left.

Draco started to twist his wand in his fingers, over and over again until Harry decided to take matters into his own hands and strode forward, took Draco's chin in his hand and leant down, pressing a hard kiss to his mouth.

"Why the hell did you do that?" Draco demanded, breathless.

"I dunno. Think about it."

Draco rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "I hate you," he said petulantly.

"No, you don't," Harry retorted.

A sharp knock on the door later and Healer Buck strode in, offering a hand to each man to shake.

"Well, Mr Malfoy, what seems to be the problem?"

"I wasn't aware there was one," Draco said, his voice suspiciously even.

Healer Buck started to perform the same diagnostic spells Call- Me- Hattie had done until she stopped him by crying: "There!"

The Healer went back and focused a beam of sunflower yellow light on one area of Draco's chest, just below his ribcage. With a lump in his throat, Harry realised what they could well be looking at.

"That, Healer Donovan, is the lingering remains of an old, very dark curse," Healer Buck said softly. He looked at Draco carefully. "I don't suppose there's any point in asking how you sustained this injury?"

Draco shook his head silently, his lips pressed tightly together.

Harry sighed. "The perpetrator is long dead, Healer Buck," he said. "Are you able to heal it? It causes him pain, sometimes."

The curse aside, Draco's look alone was potentially murderous.

Healer Buck nodded. "I should imagine it would," he said seriously. "It is a seriously disturbing piece of magic. I am not surprised my young colleague was concerned.

"I have heard, Mr Malfoy, that you are a potions maker of prodigious skill."

"Who told you that?" Draco asked, his scowl giving way to surprise.

Healer Buck smiled. "My wife is on the supervisory board of NEWT qualifications. Your Dreamless Sleep variation has been causing ripples." Draco flushed at the praise. "I imagine it would be an extraordinarily commercial product if you can counteract those sedation- like side effects..."

Call- Me- Hattie coughed lightly from her position by the door.

"Ah, yes," Healer Buck said, looking mildly embarrassed at his going off topic. "I can perform a counter curse but since the curse has lingered for so long, you will need to take a potion for a few days in order to heal completely. It is not so difficult to make, I can send you the instructions, if you like?"

"That would be good," Draco said, nodding. "Thank you, Healer."

Harry appreciated what the Healer was doing; by offering to let Draco brew the potion himself, the balance of power was transferred back into his hands. His recovery was his own responsibility.

"Excellent," Healer Buck said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I'll have my assistant owl you the instructions."

Although the hospital bustled around them, both Draco and Harry were quiet, lost in their own thoughts as they made their way to Andromeda's ward. Neither of them had wanted to consider the future of their little family, what would happen when they eventually had to give Bear back. He wasn't theirs to keep.

"Nice to see you again, Mr Malfoy," a nurse greeted them at the entrance to the ward, causing a spike of guilt in Harry's stomach, that he hadn't been coming to check on Andromeda's condition too. The wizard soon noticed Harry as well, though, and greeted him with an excited "Nice to meet you, Mr Potter."

"You too," Harry mumbled, shifting Bear on to his other hip. "How is Mrs Tonks?"

"Her condition is improving steadily," the nurse said as he lead them through the ward. "We are starting to see signs that her magic is returning. We may see her regaining consciousness in - oh, I don't know - weeks and months rather than years from now."

Harry nodded and tried to look like this was good news. The nurse left him for some privacy.

Bear started fussing so Harry handed him over to Draco, letting the other man deal with dummies or dirty nappies or whatever it was the baby needed. They'd reached Andromeda's bed. The woman that he remembered as so full of life and vitality looked pale and drawn; the dark circles under her eyes and harsher features only served to make her look more like Bellatrix, confusing Harry's tortured feelings even further.

He forced himself to sit in the plastic chair next to the bed and reached over for Andromeda's hand.

"Hi... it's Harry. Um... I don't know what Draco has told you, or if you can even hear me. But I wanted to tell you... we've got Bear now. I mean, Teddy. Draco nicknamed him 'Bear' and it's sort of stuck. It's not easy, you know, looking after a baby. But we really love him. And I think it's good for both of us. He's... sort of... alright, you know? Not what I thought he was. He's different to when we were in school. Well, I suppose we all are.

"Look, I know I'm rambling now, but what I really wanted to say is that... we're okay. We're not perfect, but I think all three of us are happy. So, if you can hear me, you don't need to worry. Just concentrate on getting better, yeah? We're all okay."

xXx

The silvery light of a familiar Patronus lit up the room; the unearthly otter echoing with Hermione's voice: 'Can you let me through, please?'

"Tell her we're in the kitchen," Harry said to the otter, who nodded and disappeared, and Harry waved his wand to allow her through his complex wards.

She landed with a loud crack and straightened her skirt. Harry was immediately hit with a wave of nostalgia. Hermione was dressed in her school uniform, of course; the grey pleated skirt and white shirt, Gryffindor tie and black cardigan that looked loose- had she lost weight?

He surged forward and enveloped her in a tight hug, smoothing his hand down the back of her tight braid.

"Missed you," he mumbled.

"Missed you too," she echoed, sounding amused as she returned the bone- breaking embrace. "Harry, um, I did come here for a reason, you know."

"Sorry," he said immediately, stepping back, aware that he hadn't got dressed yet and was lounging around in his pyjamas at breakfast.

Hermione slapped a morning edition of the _Prophet_ down on the kitchen table and looked at him with an arched eyebrow.

"What the hell is this?" she demanded; her change in demeanour would have been funny if it wasn't so terrifying.

Harry hadn't taken a newspaper in quite some time, not since they switched between adoration and loathing of him so fast it gave him whiplash. The blazing headline, though, that caught his eye. 'Ex- Death Eater Saves 30 Innocent People- But At What Cost?'

"Oh, lord," Draco muttered. Harry sat down next to him and they leaned in to read the article together.

_Ex- Death Eater Draco Malfoy was recently called upon by the Auror office to assist in one of their largest ongoing operations. The thirty people who were being held at Yaxley Manor in Yorkshire had been missing for upward of six months – no one was confident of finding them alive. But, after months of searching, new evidence came to light, launching a massive rescue mission at the Georgian estate. _

_The plot thickened as Aurors discovered that the only way that the Manor (designed and built by the same architect, incidentally, responsible for Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire) could be entered was by someone bearing the Dark Mark – the identifying feature of You- Know- Who's followers. This posed an obvious dilemma: there are only two Death Eaters left alive. _

_Lucius Malfoy was a prominent figure in the first uprising of You- Know- Who and is currently serving a life sentence in Azkaban. His eighteen year old son, Draco, is believed to have been the youngest of all of the Death Eaters and, this reporter has discovered, his actions in March of this year allowed the escape of Harry Potter and his friends to escape certain death at the Dark Lord's hands. The son was clearly the only chance the Ministry had in gaining entrance to the Manor, where they had no idea if the victims would be dead or alive. _

_Auror Martin Stonestreet lead the operation and has refused to comment on its details. However, here at the _Prophet_ we have learned that Malfoy Jr. was called upon to join forces with the system he once so publicly defied._

_In a dramatic and terrifying twist, it emerged that the Manor held what is commonly known as a 'Traitor's Curse'; an archaic and seldom used curse designed to cause the 'traitor' to painfully bleed to death. The curse resonated through Malfoy's Dark Mark and he was rushed to St Mungo's bleeding heavily from his left forearm. He was admitted and remained under the care of senior Healer Buck for a number of days before being discharged into the care of "a friend". _

_Only a few floors away, the last victims of You- Know- Who's reign recovered, mostly from exhaustion and malnutrition, having been kept alive by the kindness of house elves. _

"_He did a brave and selfless thing," commented Ophelia Drunge, 74, of Hartwith cum Winsley. "He had no obligation to help us and he did. He is welcome to mine for a cuppa whenever he wants."_

_The happy ending to this tale is yet to come. Reports from inside St Mungo's suggest that Malfoy had a regular visitor during his stay. Although my source refused to reveal the identity of the mystery visitor, they did also mention that a baby was also frequently seen in Malfoy's room. _

_With the scandalous revelations last week that Malfoy's former classmate, Pansy Parkinson, is carrying the child of one of her father's friends (almost twenty six years her senior), one naturally wonders if she is the only former Slytherin who has joined this young parents' club._

_Since very few, if any, have survived a traitor's curse in modern times it is unknown what the lasting effects on Malfoy will be. Let us hope that this gallant and courageous young man has indeed found solace in the arms of another. We at the _Prophet_ wish this unsung hero the swiftest of recoveries._

A soft thudding sound to his right told Harry that Draco was repeatedly banging his head against the wooden table. Something was bubbling in his chest, threatening to break free, and as he raised his eyes to Hermione, it escaped.

"Not funny," Draco bit out as Harry rolled on the floor, clutching his stomach with both hands to control the cramping laughter.

Accompanying the article was an old image of Draco in dark robes, scowling into the camera, which may well have been a Ministry mugshot. Draco growled at the picture, folded the newspaper and flung it back at Hermione who protested and whacked him around the back of the head with it.

"Hey!"

"Don't start. You're both in trouble with me right now. Why did no one tell me what happened? I'm out of the loop enough as it is, without something like this…"

Harry could sense she was getting a full head of steam on her and attempted to diffuse the situation before they were treated to a spectacular rant.

"We didn't mean to keep anything from you," he said hurriedly. "I jus thought Ron would have told you."

Draco grinned and gave him a thumbs up from over Hermione's shoulder.

She harrumphed. "He's in Belarus."

"Lucky Ron," Draco said and ducked at the scowl she threw at him.

"Don't you have lessons this morning?" Harry asked.

"Ten o' clock. Potions," she said briskly. "I have at least another hour in which to yell at you."

"Granger, why don't you just have some toast?"

She sat down sharply, her mouth hanging open just a little bit. Then she shut it smartly. Draco stood up to make her a cup of tea just as the sounds of Bear's crying came through the _conspectus_ charm.

"Oh! You're still using them!" Hermione said, delighted.

"Yeah. They're a godsend," Draco said from his spot by the kettle.

"I'll get him. Won't be a minute." Harry took the stairs two at a time and lifted Bear out of his crib and on to his shoulder. It was rare that Bear woke up crying these days but Ruth had said it was nothing that they needed to worry about.

They talked about school while studiously avoiding their previous enmity as Harry fed Bear his breakfast. Hermione had to disappear far too soon after finding a very small clean spot on Bear's head to kiss and offering promises to return as soon as she could.

"She doesn't hate me." Draco's voice was as confused as it was stunned.

"I think... there's something I should tell you," Harry said as he cleaned the goo from Bear's face and handed him a biscuit. Draco just raised an eyebrow in an expression that might have been disdain if Harry didn't know better.

"The statement that was read at your trial," Harry continued. Draco's eyebrows turned downwards and his forehead wrinkled into a frown.

"_Your_ statement, do you mean?"

"Yes. Well, sort of. It was Hermione's. She wrote it."

"You're having me on."

Harry shook his head and tried not to snort with laughter. "I'm not, no."

"But why... why would Granger want to do that? She hates me."

"She doesn't hate you any more than I do, Draco. What you need to realise is that what Hermione loves more than anything else in the whole world is a _good cause_. It used to be house elves, and I think, maybe, now it might be you."

"Oh lord."

This time Harry did laugh. "Take it as a compliment."

"No, thanks."

"Aw, Draco. Don't you want to be her friend?" He was teasing now, falling into this role easy as breathing.

"The thought that _she_ might want to be _mine_ is terrifying."

"She's a good person, Draco."

"She scares me."

This time, Harry really did laugh. "Oh, Draco."

"Don't! You didn't ever see her at Prefect meetings. It was all, _student reform _and_ positive change _and_ practical enforcement of the rules._ I had a renewed respect for Weasley after that."

"I'll be sure to tell him."

"Do that and I'll hex you."

Harry smiled to himself and lifted Bear from his high chair, handing him to Draco at arm's length.

"Your turn to give him a bath," Harry said with his tongue firmly lodged in his cheek, then ducked an laughed as he ran out of the kitchen as Draco started yelling at him.

xXx

Bear had been bathed and was sitting on the floor between Harry's legs in the living room, seemingly fascinated with a toy that required putting a red ball in the red cup, and a green ball in a green cup to make a little bell chime. The balls were frequently thrown at Harry's head. Bear was also delighted when Harry Summoned them back from wherever they'd been thrown.

"I didn't know so many people in our year could make Patronuses," Draco said as he reclined back on the sofa, neatly tucking his feet up underneath him.

"Not just in our year. Pretty much everyone in the DA learned how to cast one eventually. _Accio_ green ball."

Draco hummed and sipped his tea contemplatively. "Is it difficult?" he asked eventually, his voice even with forced nonchalance.

Harry stifled a smile.. "At first, yeah. Lupin taught me how to do it using a Boggart Dementor."

"But I suppose the success of that relies on what your Boggart turns into."

"Exactly." Both men were silent as they watched Bear bang the red ball on the side of the plastic casing. "I could teach you if you want."

"Hmm," Draco hummed. "I thought the Ministry were going to destroy all of the Dementors."

"They are," Harry agreed. "But they're still in the process of rounding them all up. I very much doubt they'll manage to get them all. And they're good for sending messages, too. An owl can be intercepted but a Patronus can't."

Draco mumbled something that Harry ignored. With the little information he'd gleaned about the other man in the few weeks they'd been… housemates? Cohabitants? He'd learned that more than anything else, Draco hated being ignored.

"Okay," the other man said eventually. "You can teach me if you want."

Harry snorted with laughter.

"What?"

"You," Harry muttered.

A week later they stood in Draco's potions lab, the long table pushed to one side and Bear napping in his squashy chair, safe out of the way in the corner.

"Okay. So don't expect for anything to happen the first time, because it likely won't."

"Stop making excuses and show me."

"Fine. The incantation is _expecto patronum_. But before you get there you need to focus your mind on the happiest memory you can think of. It needs to fill you up, take over all of your thoughts. When you're there, try it."

Harry fell silent and leaned back against the wooden staircase, his arms folded across his chest. Draco stood, his eyes closed and chest rising and falling within the confines of his thin navy jumper. He watched, entranced, as Draco lifted his arm and whispered the words.

A faint, silver puff emanated from the end of his wand.

"Was that it?" he asked, incredulous.

Harry laughed. "It wasn't bad for a first attempt," he said. "Something happened at least."

"I thought they were supposed to be animals," Draco pouted.

"It will be," Harry assured him. "You just need to practice."

They spent several hours working, during which time Draco only got more and more agitated when the charm wouldn't work.

"You're not teaching it right," Draco whined. "There's something you're not telling me."

Harry rolled his eyes, closed them, and let two words fill his mind: '_It's over'_.

"_Expecto patronum,_" he murmured, opening his eyes to watch the elegant silver stag burst free from the end of his wand. It galloped half way down the room then turned back to Harry with a look of _why call me when there's nothing for me to do?_ Then took off again, disappearing through the stone wall.

"Well, fuck me," Draco muttered.

"I've been able to do it since I was thirteen," Harry said.

"Show off."

"No, I just meant that I've had plenty of practice. Come on, we'll get some lunch and try again later."

By early afternoon they'd determined that Draco's Patronus was definitely some kind of bird, but it wasn't obvious yet just what. Still, it was an enormous achievement, not that Draco listened when Harry tried to impart this on him.

"It takes _practice,_ Draco," Harry sighed as they sat down to a lunch of roast beef sandwiches. "You can't expect to get it in one morning. You have to keep at it."

Draco muttered something to himself and got up in search of crisps.

"It's a difficult charm to learn," Harry repeated, attempting to reassure. Draco scowled and pushed his sleeves up to his elbows to rub at his forearm. The bandages could have come off days ago, and there was no need to apply the salve any longer, but Draco insisted that Harry re- dress the wound every evening before bed. It was a battle that Harry wasn't sure how to fight. He decided that Draco needed to come to terms with this new scar with the help of his therapist, and wasn't spoken to for at least half a day when he voiced this opinion.

"I know what it is," Harry said suddenly, smirking as the thought formed in his head. "You don't like that you can't do it."

"No," Draco said quickly. Too quickly.

"It is!" Harry crowed. "The child prodigy Draco Malfoy can't cast a simple little Patronus."

"No!" Draco repeated. But he was blushing furiously.

"Aw, it's okay. I'll help you."

"Fuck off, Potter," Draco muttered.

Harry laughed, delighted. "I promise I will. Think of it like... extra Charms homework."

"Potter," Draco said in a low voice. "Drop it now, or I'll hex you so that it's physically impossible for you to touch your cock with your hand."

"You'd just have to touch it for me, then," Harry smirked, leaning forward on the table with his forearms flat against the wood, hitching an eyebrow in a familiar flirty gesture.

"Harry."

"Draco?"

He was pushing, and he knew it, but there was something brewing between them. Stolen kisses and spectacular orgasms aside, Harry knew that this went back further than the few months they had been living together. This was the accumulation of years of tension that Harry had labelled playground bullying but was probably something else.

"I can do it, you know," Draco said. "I don't need your help."

"Then do it," Harry challenged.

Draco pushed one hand on the table for the momentum to lean over and grab Harry's t- shirt in a balled fist, pulling their mouths together for a brief, intense kiss.

"_Expecto patronum," _Draco whispered against Harry's lips and they both turned to watch a beautiful, elegant magpie flew from the wand Harry hadn't seen him reach for. It looped the room, soaring on spread wings, then disappeared.

Harry pressed his forehead to Draco's and decided that he was definitely not going to consider the implications of the fact that the happiest thought Draco could summon was one of Harry's lips on his own. Nope. Definitely not going to think about that at all.


	11. Winter Son

_A/N: Today is my birthday! 25, before you ask. I'm **ancient**_._  
This is my favourite chapter so far. Just why should be evident by the time you get to the end.  
Draco's Patronus is a magpie because they're cunning and resourceful, sleek and beautiful, they love pretty and shiny things and, most importantly, it reflects within him a desire to fly free.  
Still unbeta'd - this is all me._

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Chapter 11 - Winter Son

"Harry!"

A distressed wail from upstairs broke Harry's concentration from reading Bear his bedtime story. It was an impressive wail – one that turned his two syllable name into an eight syllable whine.

"What?" He made sure to pitch his own voice somewhere between amusement and annoyance.

Draco thundered down the stairs and skidded to a halt in the doorway. His hair was dripping wet and his skin, too, appeared damp, although he'd pulled his shirt on over the top of his boxers. At this sight Harry really did snort with laughter.

"Oh, you look incredibly pathetic," Harry opined.

"I forgot to cast _Impervius _on my bandage before getting in the shower." Draco stuck his bottom lip out in a pout.

"Oh dear."

"Fix it for me!" Draco cried.

"I'm sorry, Mr Lupin, you simply must wait," Harry said to the baby. "It is much more important that I sort out our eighteen year old companion, because he clearly can't do it himself."

Draco was sulking as he stalked across the room and flopped on to the sofa next to Harry, holding out his arm for inspection and repair. Harry laid Bear down on the sofa and cast a static shield charm to stop him falling off.

"Take your shirt off," Harry instructed.

"Why?"

"For once in your life, Malfoy, just do what you're told and don't argue."

"Fine. Potter."

Harry recognised the dig and welcomed it as Draco stripped off his shirt. He forced himself not to stare at the scarring as he unwound the wet bandages to reveal the red and sore, but definitely healing skin below.

"It doesn't need a new bandage on there, Draco," Harry said softly as he dried the wet skin with a gentle drying charm.

"But I want one."

"Have you talked to Miranda yet?"

"Fuck off."

Harry sighed. "Okay, talk to me, then."

"Can I have my shirt back?"

"It's all wet. I really wish I could have seen you jumping out of that shower."

"You're a sadist."

"Just a little bit."

Draco took his shirt and started to dry it himself, holding his wand and moving it like a Muggle lady with a hairdryer.

Bear was starting to fall asleep, despite their bickering and the abandonment of his bedtime story. Harry leaned over and scooped the baby into his arms, cradling him close to his chest to carry him upstairs to his crib. The nursery looked like a completely different room from the dark, mouldy box that they'd originally moved Bear into; with clean windows and clean, bright walls, it was now warm and welcoming.

The baby was already breathing deeply as Harry set him down in the crib, turned on the musical mobile of moving Quidditch players and prodded the _conspectus _charm into a better position.

"Goodnight," Harry whispered before closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

To his surprise, Draco was still sitting shirtless on the sofa when he returned.

"Look," he said, thrusting out his arm.

"Mhmm, I've seen it a few times, actually," Harry said.

"No, _look,_ Harry. You can barely see the Mark."

"I hate to say I told you so, but… no, wait. I actually quite enjoy telling you I told you so. Because I did."

Draco rolled his eyes and waited for Harry to sit next to him, then pushed his forearm back under Harry's nose. Very gently, Harry grasped his wrist and lowered it to where he could look at it properly. The skin was starting to scar where it had knitted back together; pale, silvery pink and white stretches that looked obscene on Draco's beautiful skin. If he looked closely Harry could just about see a few dark curves deep under the scarring, but they were faint enough to not notice on a casual inspection.

"It's gone," Draco murmured.

Harry trailed his fingertips down the length of Draco's inner arm. Draco shuddered. "Yeah. It has."

"I don't… I'm not…" Draco stumbled over his words.

"_I _think," Harry interjected, his words carefully paced, "that this is the absolution you've been looking for. You did a terrible thing when you took that Mark, Draco, I'm not going to sugar coat it for you. But when you risked it all with the traitor's curse, then you've earned the right to be forgiven."

Draco was shaking his head. "Not yet. Not quite yet."

"Yes," Harry argued, tugging on the hand that was strangely still in his own until Draco looked at him. "You have to let it go. You have to move on. Is Bear going to grow up knowing his cousin who risked his life to help a group of innocent people, or is he going to know a Death Eater?"

"I want him to know..." He sighed heavily. "I'm so sick of this, Harry. I want my mum back. I want to go back to normal, but normal was fucking horrible so I don't want that, and the closest thing I've ever come to a real family is with you and Bear, and that's fucking terrifying too, so…"

"Isn't your mum going to want you to… how was it you put it… marry a nice pureblood witch and start making lots of nice grandchildren for her?" Harry was smirking, teasing, but his words held weight.

"Probably," Draco admitted. "I won't, though. I think I've got to stand up to her and say no, and I think she'll probably accept that."

"I hope so," Harry said.

Draco met his eyes. "I hope so, too."

He wasn't sure just when the conversation had shifted to create this tense, awkward atmosphere between them, but Harry didn't like it. He wanted their tense, awkward friendship back. When his hand had been extracted from Draco's, Harry stood and walked to the door.

"Good night, Draco."

"Mmm. 'Night."

xXx

"I'm going for a shower," Harry called after he'd stumbled out of bed the following morning, hoping that this would discourage Draco from coming to find him. Waking up with an erection was nothing new. Waking up with an erection and the thought of what he was about to do, was.

The tiled bathroom filled with steam as Harry stripped off his boxers and t- shirt, flinging them into the washing basket with little thought before stepping under the water. The pulsing heat of the jets on his body did nothing to dampen his arousal.

Draco had been the first person to touch him... _there_, but Harry was determined that if things were going to go any further in that respect, then he was going to do it himself first. None of his erotic fantasies had ever centred around having anything penetrate him before, but the gentle, teasing pad of Draco's finger when he had sucked Harry's cock had opened up his imagination to a completely new type of pleasure.

Harry spread his legs and braced one hand on the slick tile, arching his back for better access.

_Just get on with it,_ he told himself and reached back between his bum cheeks, seeking out that curled ring of nerve endings. It sort of felt okay... wrinkly... soft and... unknown. Different. Almost subconsciously Harry lifted his foot to rest on the edge of the bath, allowing room for deeper penetration as he gently pushed forward, and the ring of muscle stretched.

The throb in his groin reminded him of his more immediate problem, but he couldn't finger his ass and stroke his dick at the same time, and the former was supposed to be the focus of this session. With a deep breath, it suddenly hit Harry how deliciously _naughty_ this was. His finger slid in another centimetre. How dirty. The second knuckle. How Draco would look if he could see Harry now, naked with his finger up his arse.

_All the way_ up his arse. Harry groaned and hoped the sound of the shower would disguise the noise as he pressed his forehead against the wall for balance, desperately wriggling his finger while tugging on his painfully hard dick, coming with ferocious grunts and watching through the steam as the evidence was washed down the drain.

He washed his hands twice before leaving the bathroom.

The smell of coffee drew Harry to the kitchen, the sight of a dishevelled Draco with a sleeping Bear on one shoulder and a mug in the opposite hand kept him there.

Draco smiled with the slow, easy grace of someone who'd been awake for a long, long time. He was wearing tight black boxers that seemed to emphasise his long, lean legs which were covered in pale fuzzy hair, and a plain white t shirt that was stretched tight across his chest. There were bags under Draco's eyes, but that didn't make him any less beautiful.

Harry took long strides to cross the kitchen, standing right in Draco's space so close he could hear Bear's soft, snuffly snores and after just a moment's hesitation, leaned in and captured a full bottom lip between both of his in a soft kiss.

Neither man moved for heartbeats they both counted, then Harry moved his lips carefully. Dry skin slid easily against dry, coffee scented skin and two unshaven jaws rubbed against each other.

Harry pulled away first with his eyes still closed, and turned to leave.

"Hey," Draco said quietly, careful not to wake the baby. "Hey, Harry, wait. For fuck's sake. You can't kiss me like that then leave."

"How should I kiss you so I _can_ leave after?" Harry asked drily.

He heard the clink of porcelain meeting marble worktop and a hand fisted the hem of his t- shirt, tugging him one stumbling step backwards. A warm mouth attached itself to the junction of his neck and shoulder. Still, Harry couldn't turn around.

"Bear has to come first," Harry said, trying to explain.

"Bear comes first for me, too," Draco agreed. "It doesn't mean I can't make you a close second."

"Draco, I... This is going to sound horribly clichéd, but I really need some space to think." He took a deep breath, trying to gauge Draco's reaction. "Would you mind if I go over to George's shop this morning?"

Draco sighed but nodded. "Yeah. That's fine."

"Sure?" Harry pressed. "Tell me if it's not."

"No, I don't mind. I just really wish I knew what you were thinking."

"I'll figure it out. Then I'll let you know."

xXx

When Harry returned home there were three flying objects waiting for him in the middle of the hallway: his snitch, the _conspectus_ charm, which showed an empty crib, and an intricately folded origami crane that was slowly flapping its wings to stay afloat. Harry reached for the paper first, unfolding it to reveal Draco's message.

_We're outside in the garden. Come join us when you get home._

Harry looked down at his feet, which were still stamping off the snow and trying to warm up. The winter in London was harsh and unforgiving, and as they edged ever closer to Christmas the weather seemed determined to match the picture perfect cards that they were receiving almost daily.

The garden? Really?

He left his coat on as he walked through the house, catching and pocketing his snitch after a few moments of teasing chase and shivered through the courtyard to the door he certainly hadn't ever seen before, let alone opened.

When his gloved hand pulled the rickety wooden door wide, his jaw dropped.

He checked behind him, where the snow was still swirling down from the thick grey sky, then back through the open doorway to where spring was blooming in all its glory; flower beds bursting with plants of every colour and shape imaginable, and a few more besides, butterflies and thick springy grass and a blue sky with soft, wispy clouds...

"Close the door, you're letting the cold in," Draco called.

Draco.

He was lying on his back in the grass, his legs bent with his feet planted firmly on the floor, with Bear sitting on his lap and leaning back against his thighs. Harry shut the door and was immediately hit with the warmth. He pulled off his thick winter coat and hung it on a nail, conveniently placed just next to the door in the red brick wall.

"What the hell?" Harry asked as he unwound his scarf from his neck and sat down next to Draco in the grass.

"What?"

"This place... it's _summer_."

"Of course it is. There's a year- round season charm on the place. My mother has one on one of her gardens."

"Oh," Harry said, running his fingers through the grass while giving the gold and red tasselled end of his scarf to Bear to play with, making Draco frown. "I've never seen this before."

"It's an old, pureblood thing," Draco explained. "Usually you have to keep recasting the charm over and over to keep the other seasons out, but this house seems to defy all of the usual rules. Lie back, will you, you're making the place look untidy."

Harry smiled and complied, taking his jumper off too and balling it up for a pillow to go under his head. He wasn't going to mention the fact that Draco was wearing a _short sleeved_ t- shirt. And the bandage was still off. It was far too warm out here for long sleeves, clearly, but that Draco was wearing it at all was a huge improvement on where they were before.

He hummed in pleasure as the sun warmed his face.

"This is nice. How long have you been out here? Do we need to watch Bear in case he burns?"

"He won't burn," Draco said softly while attempting to surreptitiously turn green to red and gold to silver as Bear pulled on the wool of the scarf. Harry kept intercepting his wandless spells though. Neither of them voiced their little silent back and forth argument. "It isn't really the sun. It's the magic's interpretation of the heat of the sun. He's fine."

"Okay," Harry agreed. He trusted Draco on things like this more than he could ever have imagined.

They were laying shoulder to shoulder, almost touching through the light layers of cotton that separated them, and Harry felt suddenly emboldened in this rich, unexpected Winter sun. He stretched his arm until his forearm aligned with Draco's scarred skin, then slipped his hand around long fingers and soft skin until they were twined together. Holding hands.

They'd done a lot more, obviously. More sexual, more intimate, more horny teenage exploration.

This wasn't any of those things.

It was... sweet. Nice. Almost... romantic, although that certainly wasn't a label Harry was going to assign to their... not-a-relationship.

"Shh," Draco whispered. "I can almost hear you thinking."

"Sorry," Harry said.

"This is okay. I'm not going to run away."

"Good."

Harry kept his eyes closed as he committed the moment to memory. Bear was chattering away to himself in a language only known and understood by babies, only vague syllables recognisable as the start of possible words. Draco's breaths were slow and even.

After a while like this, Draco's thumb twitched. Harry thought it must have been an accident, until the digit started to make slow, calculated movements across the skin between Harry's thumb joint and wrist.

Draco was _stroking his hand._ And it felt _really fucking good._

"Um, Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"You know what I told you about before," Harry said, trying to hold back his embarrassment, "About me being a virgin?"

"I'm hardly likely to forget," Draco said in a familiar drawl, but squeezed reassuringly on his fingers.

"Well, I've sort of decided that Idon'twannabeoneanymore."

"Say that again?"

He took a deep breath. "I don't want to be one any more. And I was sort of hoping you would be the one who would help me with that."

The movement of Draco's thumb stilled, but he didn't move his hand away. Harry went to move, pulling his hand free but Draco tightened his fingers and refused to let Harry run away with his dignity.

"Hang on, wait a second. You want to fuck me?"

Harry flushed brilliantly. "No, not exactly. I was sort of hoping you would fuck me."

"Oh, Harry," Draco said, chuckling softly and rubbing his jaw with his free hand. "I can't say no to you. But I can't do that right away. I'd hurt you."

"Oh. Okay."

There was a burning desire in Harry to end this conversation as soon as humanly possible.

Draco leaned up on one elbow, careful to not dislodge Bear from his perch.

"Would you watch him for a few hours? I need to get some work done in the lab."

"Yeah. No problem."

Draco dropped his voice to a whisper. "I'll leave my door unlocked, tonight."

Before Harry had chance to decipher this message the air was forced out of his lungs as Bear was dropped on his stomach, and a light, upper class laugh floated on the gentle breeze, blown about by the crack of Apparition.

xXx

Draco stayed in his lab all evening, leaving Harry alone with Bear to entertain while his arousal tickled the base of his spine, never really leaving but never growing into anything stronger, either. He stuck rigidly to the evening routine in the hopes that Bear would settle quickly, and it was that or the sweet afternoon air that sent him to sleep right on time.

Giving Harry an extra hour or so to entertain himself before Draco would come up for bed.

It was an hour that he spent pacing, and arranging his sock drawer, and some more pacing, and a failed attempt at reading. When he heard footsteps on the stairs, then the sounds of Draco moving in the bathroom he nearly whimpered with need.

Harry took the few moments necessary to calm his erection so he didn't have to walk through the house with it tenting his pyjama bottoms. He couldn't be sure, but it sounded like Draco was being a lot louder than he normally was during his evening routine. Trying to make sure Harry was still awake, maybe.

A light knock on the door shocked him into sitting bolt upright in bed. He immediately grabbed his discarded book so it didn't look like he had been just sitting and waiting, and opened it at a random page.

"Come in," he called softly.

Draco opened his door and stood at the entrance, leaning on the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest. He was wearing emerald green cotton trousers and a long sleeved white t- shirt; a Slytherin cliché that made Harry's insides flip flop with want.

Instead of asking, Draco extended his hand and raised an eyebrow in question. Harry immediately dumped the book and scrambled off the bed, extinguishing the light as he fit his hand into Draco's. He was lead across the landing and into the other man's room.

Harry went to the window as Draco set up a complicated ward that would allow them to hear Bear, but stop any noise from within the room from carrying.

"Come here," Draco demanded in a soft voice.

Harry crossed the room in three short strides and attached his mouth to Draco's.

"Please, take your t- shirt off," Harry asked in a broken whimper as Draco attacked his neck with a very talented tongue. It was ripped from Draco's body and thrown in a corner somewhere. Harry took the opportunity to flatten his palms on the smooth expanse of Draco's back, angling his head back into the dizzying, breathless kisses.

"You said before, you'd hurt me," Harry murmured.

"Mhmm. You have to be gentle and stretch someone before you have sex with them."

"Okay. I don't know how to do that to you."

"I know." Draco gasped as Harry attached his teeth to the delicious skin on his shoulder.

"Will you show me? Do it to me?"

"Wait." Draco pulled back and tried to calm his frantically beating heart. "You want me to show you how to stretch out my arse so you can fuck it by stretching out _your_ arse in demonstration?"

"You've got a fucking filthy mouth," Harry said with bravado he didn't feel. "But essentially, yes."

Draco hitched an eyebrow. "Okay. Lose your trousers and spread your legs."

Harry rolled his eyes but complied, sitting back on the bed and leaning down into soft pillows. After a moment's hesitation he took his t- shirt off too, feeling too weird wearing it and being naked from the waist down. Thankfully, Draco hadn't watched as Harry undressed, instead he had lit several candles and cast a warming spell or two that filled the room slowly, like central heating on low.

He watched as Harry laid back on white pillows and spread his knees wide apart, planting his feet on the bedspread.

"You look fucking edible," Draco said in a low voice.

Harry didn't reply but started to leisurely stroke his erection. It was a challenge that Draco accepted. Climbing on the bed between Harry's legs, he silently Summoned a small round tin from his bedside drawer and ran his hands up and down the outside of Harry's thighs comfortingly.

Draco slowly licked his lips and Harry was mesmerised by the path of a dark pink tongue, more so when that tongue replaced the movements of his hand on his cock, licking a wet stripe up the underside then swirling the head to gather his taste.

"If I'm going too fast, tell me to stop and I will," Draco said as he licked Harry's hipbone. "I'm going to go very, very slowly anyway."

"If you're going too slow can I tell you?" Harry asked.

"No," Draco said, amused. "Going too fast gets people hurt. I know what I'm doing. Trust me."

"I do," Harry said.

For some reason it felt weird to do this with his glasses on, so Harry removed them and folded the arms in before setting them down on the bed next to him. Then he threw his left arm over his face and put his right hand back on his dick.

Draco shocked him again. Harry was expecting for the other man to push a finger right up inside him, like he had done to himself, but Draco seemed more intent on stroking the little twist of puckered skin over and over, igniting nerve endings that Harry didn't even know existed. He rubbed little circles, long, broad strokes with two fingers, teasing pokes... then his fingers disappeared and the sound of the tin being opened filled the room with Harry's ragged breathing.

Then they were back with a slick, slippery wetness that somehow intensified all sensations and made Harry whimper with want. Draco slapped his hand away from his dick, muttering something about coming before they got to the good bit and Harry fisted the duvet in his hand to give it something to do.

Just one finger came back this time, circling his hole then pressing lightly against it, asking for access. When Draco told him to breathe, he did, and relax, and he did, and suddenly, aided by the slippery slickness, Harry's arsehole was full of Draco Malfoy's finger.

"Oh, god," he panted as Draco chuckled lightly and kissed the inside of his knee.

"I think you like that," Draco teased. "I think Harry's a naughty boy who likes having a finger up his bum."

"Yes," Harry hissed, dragging the last, sibilant 'S' out until it sounded like Parseltongue.

He could feel, with acute clarity, the gentle exploration of Draco's finger as it prodded around inside him, gently teasing the rim of his hole with a bony knuckle while the pad of his fingertip did delicious things to his insides.

When lights burst behind his eyes and his back arched from the bed, Harry didn't even know what had hit him. He wanted to pee, then come, then pee, then definitely come if he was just allowed to touch his cock and he'd be spurting right up to his chin...

"What the fuck," he managed to ineloquently gasp and Draco, the sadist, laughed again.

"That's your prostate, baby, feels good, hmm?"

"Yeah. Need to come."

"Not yet. This was supposed to be a demonstration, remember?" Draco's tone was light, teasing. It made Harry relax, funnily enough. "There will be a test at the end. I hope you're paying attention."

The thundering in his chest cavity would not go away as Draco gently started to thrust his finger in and out. Harry shivered as Draco switched it out for his cool, unlubricated middle finger, then switched it back to the warm index finger. Sensing Harry's discomfort (or reaction) to this, Draco did it a few more times until the heat from Harry's insides had warmed both to the same temperature. Harry felt the pressure of two fingers at his entrance at the same time, and it thrilled and terrified him in equal measures, but he wanted this in some core part of himself that he hadn't managed to tap in eighteen years on this earth. He let Draco in, _welcomed_ him in by relaxing enough to let the intrusion pass his tight ring of muscle, and then Draco was thrusting two fingers and gently catching that insane pleasure spot between them and... and...

There was no way of knowing how long this had been going on, whether minutes or hours it didn't matter because he couldn't fucking wait any longer, his balls were going to explode if he didn't release the pressure in them and Draco must have felt this too, because Harry felt the shift inside him as Draco changed position, leaning forward.

Then the aching head of Harry's cock was enveloped in a tight, wet mouth and he was coming as Draco sucked the spunk out of him, swallowing it down again and rubbing both his fingers over that spot, causing the pleasure to keep spiking, flaring up when he thought he had nothing left to give.

No sound from the room reached Harry's ears beyond the sound of his own blood pumping in his head. By the time he'd recovered his senses he was clean and dry and an equally clean, dry Draco was snuggling under the duvet, forcing Harry under there with him.

"You never let me make you come," Harry said, hearing the grouchiness in his own voice.

"Oh, Harry," Draco sighed. "I just had one of the best orgasms of my entire life just from watching you come with my fingers up your ass. You have nothing to apologise for, believe me."

Harry nodded and found the bony expanse of Draco's shoulder. He tucked his head under Draco's chin and wrapped his arm around the other man's back, holding himself close and feeling Draco's surprise melt into something else. Acceptance, maybe.

"When can I do that to you?" Harry asked, just before he fell asleep.

"Soon," Draco muttered. "If I get any say in the matter, anyway. Really fucking soon."


	12. Because I Like You

_A/N: I took a risk with the end of this chapter. Let me know what you think.  
Hello to Ines, who says nice things about EDF on tumblr. You can find my blog at hidingfromsomeone . tumblr . com (remove the spaces!)  
Thank you all for your love and support, it does keep me going!_

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Chapter 12- Because I Like You

In the soft, hazy state between awake and asleep, Harry was dimly aware of hot, regular breaths disturbing the back of his neck and a heavy arm draped over his waist. As the morning crept in he recognised the almost- snoring as Draco's, and the fact that he'd put the t- shirt back on to sleep in.

He couldn't help but be a little bit disappointed, after all the progress they'd made the night before, but this was Draco's issue to deal with and Harry respected that. He gently toyed with the slightly worn fabric of the cuff, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger until a hitching breath and searching fingers told him he'd woken the other man up.

Rather than greeting him 'good morning', Draco pressed a soft, chaste kiss into the juncture of neck and shoulder.

"I'm sorry about the t- shirt," he murmured.

"That's okay," Harry said. "I don't mind."

It was still early, but Draco started mumbling to himself and got up, padding around the room for a few minutes before leaving for the bathroom. Harry half fell back asleep; hearing the movements of the house but not really paying attention to them as he drifted, even when Draco came back in to get dressed.

An indeterminable time later there was a light pressure on the bed and Harry cracked an eye open to see Draco leaning over him, depositing a sleepy Bear into the bed next to Harry.

"I'm going to go down to the lab for a bit," he whispered, grinning. "You two be good."

"We will," Harry mumbled.

Draco cast a static shield charm around the bed to stop either boy rolling out without meaning to and left them with a kiss on the head each.

Harry got a small amount of sleep with the baby next to him, but too soon for his liking Bear was awake, singing to himself and poking at Harry to wake him up.

"Come on then, you," Harry mumbled, lifting Bear up to sit on his chest as he rolled on to his back. Bear seemed to like this development and was more than happy to play with the stream of bubbles Harry produced from the end of his wand.

The _conspectus_ charm hovered close by and Harry smiled as he imagined Draco watching them as he tried to work. He smoothed Bear's hair back from his forehead; it was turquoise this morning, and getting long around his ears, but Harry was loathed to cut it. It clashed somewhat with the sunshine yellow pyjamas that he'd slept in, but if there was one thing they'd learned about Bear's abilities it was that he hadn't learned colour coordination just yet.

The six month mark was fast approaching and Harry knew that sooner rather than later they were going to need to talk about the upcoming hearing. There was no guarantee that Madame O'Connell would agree to let them keep Bear for another six months, even if they were doing a good job of caring for him. It was something that Harry was desperately trying to hide from Draco. He had his concerns about getting too attached to the baby – although really, it was too later for that. They had grown into their own happy little family and this… thing that was developing between the two of them wasn't impacting their care of the baby. If anything, it made them a stronger unit.

As long as it stays this way, a little voice in his head whispered.

Andromeda was sure to wake up eventually; sooner, rather than later, if the Healers were to be believed. And she was sure to want her grandson back. The fact that all of this was temporary was heartbreaking, but no one had ever presented it as anything differently. It was their own fault for getting caught up with playing house and not thinking about the reality of the situation.

"Yup, you need a clean nappy," Harry told the baby and disabled the shield charm as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.

When Bear was clean and dressed, Harry left him in his crib with a few toys to play with and moved the _conspectus_ charm in so Draco could keep an eye on him. Finally alone, in the shower, he allowed himself to relive the previous night in perfect, technicolor glory.

There was an owl waiting for them at the kitchen window when Harry (and Bear) went in search of breakfast. Since they were trying to teach him how to 'play nice', Harry let the bird in for a crust of toast and showed Bear how to stroke him gently. It was clearly one of the Hogwarts owls, so it was used to being handled.

He set Bear up in his high chair with a few strawberries while he brewed coffee for himself and Draco, and unfolded his letter.

_Dear Harry,_

_I hope you are well! I heard that the snow has reached London this year; we're snowed in, of course, but that shouldn't surprise you. Things are… hectic, here, I suppose. Christmas always seems to highlight a time where we remember all the people that aren't here any more._

_Christmas is what I wanted to talk to you about, really. I was going to fire- call but I wasn't sure when Draco would be around. See, the thing is, Molly is expecting you to go to The Burrow for Christmas Day this year. And to bring Bear with you. I've only just heard all of this from Ginny myself, otherwise I would have told you earlier. _

_I mean, for all I know you're okay with this, but for some reason I can't imagine you leaving Draco alone all day at Christmas. Because even if Molly does invite him, I'd bet my last Sickle that he wouldn't go. And no one should be alone at Christmas, Harry, not even him. _

_If you're not going to be there, you really need to tell her soon. Because she's likely going to hit the roof. _

_I'm here if you need me. And Ron should be back from Tibet by the time you read this. _

_Love, Hermione. _

Harry read the letter twice, rolled his eyes, scowled, and made two mugs of coffee.

"Shit."

xXx

It was late, but The Crup & Duck was packed and Ron had had to use his most persuasive of smiles to secure them a small table with two backless, round stools. Harry had bought the round, or, rather, he'd gone to the bar where the barman had refused to take his money, and Harry had chucked the Galleon in the charity collection bucket in protest.

"Yeah, Mum's going to hit the roof," Ron agreed once Harry had recounted the contents of the letter to him. "Did you kill Malfoy yet? Because if you haven't, now's the time to do it. Two birds with one stone, and all that."

"No, I haven't," Harry said, chuckling despite himself. "And I'm not going to, either."

"Shame," Ron said with a shrug.

"I really don't want to upset her," Harry wailed. "She's like a mum to me too, you know? But I just can't abandon Draco at Christmas. Hermione would kill me if I did."

"Well…" Ron said, trailing off and considering the inside of his pint glass and the warm amber liquid therein.

"Yes?" Harry prompted.

"George is bringing Angelina over for Christmas, introducing her to the family and all that," he said slowly. "He's going to finally tell Mum that they're living together. And you definitely did not hear this from me, but Fleur's pregnant; Bill was going to announce it on Christmas Day. I reckon if you skip dinner, but come over in the afternoon for presents and stuff, and maybe stay for tea, then you might be able to get away with it, what with everything else that's going on."

Harry was silent as he considered this wall of information. "You reckon?" he said eventually.

Ron nodded. "And… I dunno, this might be going a step too far, but I think we should stick together. How about if me and Hermione come to you for dinner? I think Charlie is bringing someone back, some Romanian witch that he's been seeing, and if Percy brings Penelope we're going to be seriously squashed. She might even think it's a good idea."

Silently, Harry thought that if Ron thought that Molly would consider the absence of all three of them and the baby a good idea, he was barking, but it was a plan with merit.

"I dunno, mate. I think you've spent too much time around other people having good ideas. It's clearly rubbing off on you."

Ron pinked with pleasure or alcohol, it wasn't really clear which.

"Could we stay at yours, Christmas Eve? Then we can all go over to Mum's together. And she might have enough beds for everyone."

"Yeah," Harry said, warming to the idea. "And you know I'll let you and Hermione sleep in the same bed."

"It's not just that…" Ron said. "Me and Neville have been staying in our flat in between assignments and it's a tip. If Hermione sees it she's going to have a fit."

Harry laughed and drained his glass. "No problem. Next round is yours."

xXx

The next part of the plan was convincing everyone else involved in it that it was as good an idea as several pints had convinced Ron and Harry it was. Fortunately, most of the participants were willing.

"No," Draco whined after Harry had removed the _Silencio_ that he'd cast after Draco's constant interrupting. "I don't want to spend Christmas with Granger and the Weasel."

Harry smirked. "Want to spend it at The Burrow instead?"

"No," Draco repeated, sulking with his arms folded across his chest.

"At the Manor by yourself? Here by yourself?"

"No."

"Well then."

"They don't like me." A soft, pink bottom lip thrust itself out in a pout.

"Of course they don't like you, Draco!" Harry cried, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "You spent the best part of six years being an insufferable git! But they're good people. And my friends. And they'll be nice to you if you're nice to them."

"I'll be nice to them if they're nice to me."

"Draco."

"Fine! I'm not cooking though."

"Oh, no way. I'm not cooking for five people for Christmas dinner by myself." Harry grabbed one of Draco's leather bound notebooks that he used to detail the progress of his potions. "Come on. Help me make a list."

"A list of what? Don't use that notebook."

Draco searched through a pile of parchment and flung a cheap, lined notepad at Harry and stoked the fire for more heat.

"Food for Christmas."

"I've never done this before…"

"You don't say," Harry said sarcastically, winking at the other man. "And I'm doing a turkey, before you start waxing lyrical about the benefit of goose over pheasant."

Draco snorted. "Turkey is common."

"Fuck off."

He laughed openly, then. "You do make nice roast potatoes."

"Thank you."

"Oh! And parsnips. And carrots."

"I could teach you to cook, you know? As a Christmas present."

"No thanks, Potter."

Harry smiled and shifted on the sofa, leaning back into the corner and bringing his feet up to rest on the cushion. Resting the pad against his knee, he scrawled the words 'turkey, potatoes, carrots, parsnips' on the page. Added 'butterbeer, chocolates, firewhiskey'.

"Do you like Turkish Delight?" Harry asked.

"Mm. Yeah."

It was added to the list. After a few minutes of quill- chewing, Harry bored of the task and tossed the list onto the coffee table.

"What are you gonna get Bear for Christmas?"

Draco smiled at him from the other end of the sofa. "There are traditions in pureblood families on what you buy children for birthdays and Christmases."

"Oh. Like a watch on your seventeenth?"

"Exactly," Draco agreed. "For a first Christmas it's usually a hefty deposit in the baby's own saving account at Gringotts."

Harry smiled and rolled his eyes. "Nice. Classy."

"Well, he's too young to appreciate much at this age."

"Toys," Harry argued lightly. "He likes toys."

"We can buy him toys any time. We _do_ buy him toys any time. All the time, in fact."

Harry looked up at the _conspectus_ charm which showed the baby sleeping soundly in his bed.

"I'm really going to miss him when he goes."

"Don't say that," Draco said immediately.

"He's not going to be here forever. There's no point in pretending he's ours when we can't keep him."

"You don't know that."

Harry reached out and tugged on Draco's sleeve. "Come here."

Draco turned awkwardly and settled himself between Harry's legs, his back to Harry's chest and his legs stretched out along the length of the sofa. It was incredibly intimate and familiar, but of course, they had been more intimate than this. Still, it felt different. Too romantic, maybe. He turned his head into the warm, soft skin of Harry's neck. Felt Harry's arms come around his waist and hold him close to a warm body. Yes, it was definitely different.

"I like you," Harry whispered.

"I'm shocked," Draco countered.

"Not as much as I am."

Draco huffed a laugh. "Are you sure you want this?"

One of Harry's hands had insinuated itself under the hem of his jumper and was resting just over his bellybutton. The other hand tangled with Draco's fingers. Their legs were pressed tightly together. And Harry was half hard.

"It's scaring the ever loving shit out of me, to be honest."

"Because I'm a man?"

"No, because you're you."

Draco nodded. "That makes sense. They'll hate this, you know."

"Who?" Harry kissed the shell of an ear.

"Weasley and Granger. Mrs Weasley. The rest of Wizarding Britain."

Harry shook his head, his hair tickling the back of Draco's neck. "I don't care what they think."

"Not right now you don't. But what about when you're completely ostracised by all of your friends and family? When people won't serve you in shops because of the man you're with?"

"I think you're forgetting something," Harry said. His thumb and forefinger were rubbing together the silky strands of hair that trailed in a line from Draco's bellybutton to down... lower. Then his blunt nails gently scratched over the area. It was driving Draco insane.

"What?" he demanded, although his usual harshness had been lost.

"You're a hero too, these days," Harry teased lightly.

"They won't forget that quickly, Harry."

"I don't know."

"I do," Draco said wryly. "They still cross the street to avoid me on Diagon Alley."

"Maybe you just need a bit more good press."

"I hate the press."

"Me too."

Harry had started to run his fingertips back and forth just above Draco's waistband. With his lips worrying the smooth column of Draco's throat, he thumbed the first silver button of Draco's fly undone.

"Harry-"

"Shhh."

The next three were worked with slow precision, allowing Harry to feel the growing hardness beneath the layer of denim and cotton. Draco's irregular heartbeat was even more noticeable with Harry's lips pressed to his jugular and Harry couldn't help but think that this was real power, holding an equally powerful man in his arms and reducing him to a quivering wreck.

His fingertips were moments away from sliding under the elastic of Draco's boxers, and he spooked.

"Sorry, sorry." Draco surged to his feet and hastily refastened his fly. "I can't do this. I'm sorry."

Harry thunked his head back against the arm of the sofa and groaned. There was no question about it - he would have to follow Draco and talk this out if he had any respect for the... _thing_ between them. Didn't mean he actually wanted to, though.

After checking all of the magical protection around the house, he extinguished the lights and made his way up to the third floor.

"Draco?" he called softly, knocking on his door.

"Good night," Draco called back. "See you in the morning."

"Oh no you don't," Harry muttered. "_Alohomora_."

Draco was sat on the windowsill by his open window, smoking with jerky motions. He scowled deeply when Harry let himself in.

"That's very rude, you know."

"You wouldn't have let me in, otherwise." Harry shut the door behind him.

"I could have been getting changed."

Harry shrugged. "What's wrong?" He was sorely tempted to add 'with you' after, but left it at the first two words.

"Nothing. I just - I'm not in the mood."

"Right. Okay." Harry's words were sarcastic.

Draco stubbed out his cigarette and Vanished it, then Summoned his tin of tobacco and rolled another with deft fingertips and practiced motions.

"Those things will kill you."

Draco rolled his eyes. "No they won't."

"Why won't you let me touch you? You've touched me plenty of times now. If we're going to have sex then you're going to need to let me reciprocate eventually."

"You wanna fuck? Fine," Draco said. "Turn the lights off and strip. Let's do it."

"I'll leave the lights on, actually," Harry said. His fingers went to his throat and started to unbutton his shirt. "Let me light a few more."

With his shirt undone, exposing his broad chest and its fine dusting of hair, Harry pulled his wand and lit several more candles around the room.

"Oh, much better," Draco drawled sarcastically. "_Nox_."

The room went black.

"_Lumos_," Harry countered, relighting all the candles. "What's wrong, Draco?"

"Why are you pushing this?"

"Because you won't fucking talk to me straight, so I'm trying to get a reaction out of you the way that worked for seven fucking years."

Draco growled in the back of his throat and took a long drag on his cigarette. Harry folded his arms across his chest and remained determined that he wasn't going to be embarrassed at his half- dressed state. Eventually Draco pulled the sash window closed and stood.

"I don't like my body," he whispered, looking at the floor.

Harry crossed the room and tilted the other man's chin up with a gently crooked finger. "Why? You're beautiful."

Draco shook his head. "No I'm not. I'm too skinny, you said it yourself. And I'm covered in scars. I look like... damaged goods."

Harry gently took him by the shoulders and turned him to face the large, once cracked mirror on the wall.

"That doesn't matter to me. No, look at me, Draco." Harry locked eyes with Draco's reflection and slowly pushed his fringe back from his forehead. "Does this make me damaged goods?"

Draco licked his lips slowly, unconsciously and chewed his lip. Shook his head. "No."

"Then neither do yours. They're war scars, same way mine are. They mean you lived through it and you survived. You're a survivor, just like I am."

"We're nothing alike, Harry." Draco's eyes had dropped from his reflection again.

"We're more alike than I ever realised," he countered with a touch of humour.

Harry rested his chin on Draco's shoulder and wrapped his arms around an unwilling torso. After a few minutes, Draco's arms moved from their position held stiffly by his sides to wrap around Harry's. Smiling into Draco's neck, Harry peppered the pale neck with kisses again.

"I'm so, so scared," Harry admitted. "I need you to be strong with me. I don't know how to do this if you don't want it as much as I do."

With a soft sigh, Draco turned in his arms and realigned their bodies so Harry's arms were around his shoulders and his own were anchoring them together. He tilted his head until their mouths were just inches away from each other, then closed the gap.

It never failed to shock Harry just how easily they fit together. Kissing other people - girls - had never been like this. The slow, gentle exploration that pitched a fire in his chest and a tightness in his trousers; the slide of a tongue in his mouth and lighter, gentle nips that stoked the fire into a burning want.

"I want you," Draco said, resting his forehead against Harry's. "I've never wanted anyone like I want you, and that terrifies me. There's something that you do that's connecting my head and my heart and no one's ever had my heart before. It's hard to give it up when I didn't realise that I'd been protecting it so fiercely."

"You don't have to give it up all at once," Harry whispered. "I'll wait for the rest of you."

The words weren't coming for Draco any more, but kisses were easy, and so desperately wanted when they were Harry's kisses; so easily taken and so willingly offered. His hands flattened on warm, bare skin under the still open shirt, and even though he wanted nothing more than to throw Harry down and fuck him within an inch of his life, that wasn't for tonight.

"I'm sorry."

"That's okay," Harry said, kissing the corner of his mouth. "I'd say don't pull away from me, but I'm guessing you will. It's okay if you do, just come back, yeah?"

Draco nodded. "I don't want you to feel like I'm kicking you out, but I need to get stuff straight in my head and I don't think I'm going to be able to keep my hands off you if you stay here tonight."

Harry kissed him gently. It quickly slid into something more, proving Draco's point.

"If you have a nightmare, come in to me, okay? Don't feel like you can't come over. I don't mind."

"Okay."

"Goodnight," Harry whispered, extracting himself from Draco's arms.

xXx

_Daily Prophet_ Edition from 14th December 1998

_Today we heard the announcement that the Society for the Protection of Magical Orphaned Children (SPMOC), will receive the full support of the Ministry of Magic's child protection department. SPMOC was incepted in the days following the end of the war by the organisation headed by the late Albus Dumbledore, the Order of the Phoenix. Himself a member of the Order, Minister Shacklebolt has been firm in his stance that the Society first met all standards laid out by the Ministry before receiving public funding, and that this delay was necessary in order to make sure the organisation was in the interest of the public. _

"_The Order of the Phoenix is not a political organisation," the Minister said at today's press conference. "Although I am a proud member of the Order, I cannot and will not let my political standing allow the Order an easy pass with Ministry guidelines, especially when those guidelines apply to the protection and care of children."_

_In the background of all this political upheaval it seems that those the SPMOC seeks to protect have, unfortunately, been forgotten. _

_Official figures from the War period are notably untrustworthy due to upheaval within the Ministry itself during that time. Conservative estimates put the number of War orphaned children at anything between 60 and 200. These figures are based on the assumption that an 'orphaned' child has lost at least one parent, if not both. _

_Over the past six months, a select team here at the _Prophet_ have been keeping a keen eye on how both the Order of the Phoenix and the Ministry have been dealing with the sudden influx of parentless children. The most notorious is the Phoenix Orphanage, situated in the leafy community of Primrose Hill where at least thirty children now live whilst suitable foster homes are found. We believe we have traced and ascertained the status of most of the lost children. But there are a few that have eluded us. _

_As a matter of public interest, we are seeking those who may know the location and status of the following children to come forward and assure us of their safety. _

_Alicia Towey_

_Age: 14 months_

_Parents: Louise Towey (father unknown)_

_Louise Towey was a single mother, a Muggle born who all but disappeared after leaving Hogwarts. She was living in London at the time of her death and little is known about her life, friends, or the possible whereabouts of her daughter. Any information on Alicia's whereabouts would be greatly appreciated by those in the _Prophet_ office who are extremely concerned about this little girl._

_Ted 'Teddy' Lupin_

_Age: 9 months _

_Parents: Nymphadora 'Tonks' Lupin and Remus Lupin_

_Poor Teddy Lupin is possibly one of the most tragic cases that we have come across. His grandfather, Ted Tonks, was killed by 'Snatchers' in the closing months of the war and both his parents died a hero's death in the final battle. After being left in his grandmother, Andromeda Tonks' care, at three months old the child once again lost a loved one; according to our sources Mrs Tonks is still a patient at St Mungo's after being the victim of a curse only weeks after the War ended. _

_The location of baby Teddy is currently unknown. He does have family; his second cousin is Draco Malfoy, a young man who has recently proved his own hero status after assisting a team of Ministry Aurors in a dramatic rescue mission. And his godfather is none other than the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter. However, due to the age of Malfoy and Potter, (both are only eighteen), it is likely that he is living with family friends until his grandmother has recovered. _

_Isabella McCall_

_Age: 2 years _

_Parents: Tillie and Michael McCall_

_Isabella McCall's parents were killed while hiding out in what had been billed as a 'safe-house', supposedly under the Fidelus charm, the location of which was released to Death Eaters. Although Isabella was with her parents at the time of their deaths, in a harrowing echo of Harry Potter's own story seventeen years ago, there are rumours that Isabella survived the attack and may have been rescued by Muggles. _

_The Ministry and SPMOC have admitted to relocating very young magical children who would not have yet started to show their magical abilities to non- magical foster parents for a short time, but due to Isabella's age, it is crucial that she is relocated to a wizarding family as soon as possible._

_Titan Noble_

_Age: 11 months (approximately) _

_Parents: Gaia and Arturo Noble_

_This child is somewhat of a conundrum; his birth was only documented by word of mouth and it wasn't until photographs were discovered of him with his parents that we were able to verify his existence. Son of a Death Eater father and a highly respected Ministry witch, who was accused of defecting and allowing many of You- Know- Who's followers into high ranking positions within the Ministry. Both were killed during clashes with Aurors. _

_This child is, of course, completely unaware of the sins of his parents. We feel it is imperative that we locate him as soon as possible to prevent so called 'revenge attacks' or vigilante justice. _

_Your contact at the _Prophet _for any information regarding War orphaned children is Mildred Spencer at the Diagon Alley office. Floo coordinates are on our contact page. _


	13. Biscuits

_A/N: I vaguely recall a posting schedule... fuck that though.  
It's starting to dawn on me just how long this story is going to be by the time I wrap up all the different threads and themes.  
Settle in for the long haul, guys. And some more sexin'. I **love** to hear your thoughts and comments, if you'd like to leave one!_

* * *

Chapter 13- Biscuits

In the days running up to Christmas George was busier than ever at the shop, and Harry agreed to pull extra shifts to help out. They'd agreed that Hermione would spend a couple of weeks with her parents before moving in to Grimmauld Place the day before Christmas Eve, since Ron would be working right up until the day before Christmas anyway.

The day they moved in caused something close to awkwardness. Hermione and Draco had made steps towards a tentative friendship, but feelings between Ron and Draco were still considerably icy. That afternoon was grim and rainy; Draco was hiding in his basement with Bear, allowing Harry some time with his friends to try and explain the relationship that even he and Draco had no name for.

"I need you to know something," Harry said cautiously as they sat around the fire in the living room with mugs of hot chocolate.

Hermione raised an eyebrow and smacked Ron in the arm to silence him. "Go on."

"It's me and Draco."

"Mhmm?"

"We're… sort of… involved."

His friends reactions shocked him. Ron groaned and reached into his pocket, extracting a Galleon and slapped it into Hermione's outstretched palm.

"Hang on, what's that all about?" Harry demanded.

"Just a little bet we had on," Hermione said, smirking.

"A little bet about what?"

"I reckoned you'd end up killing him. Or cursing him, at least. Hermione said that you'd end up snogging him. She won."

Harry tried to find a suitable expression of distaste and embarrassment, and came up with stunned silence instead.

"Don't just gulp at us, Harry," Hermione said. "All the tension and history between you was bound to manifest itself one way or another."

"I did punch him in the mouth before I hit him," Harry said, then wondered why he felt the need to divulge that particular piece of information.

"Aha!" Ron said, extending his hand for his Galleon back.

"No chance," Hermione told him. "You said curse or kill. He did neither."

Ron mumbled something then kissed her hair.

"So… you're okay with this?" Harry asked.

"Okay? No. Surprised?" Ron paused. "No, not really."

"Please be nice to him," Harry begged. "I really don't want you two to fight."

"Have you had this conversation with him?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah. Just…. Yeah. Leave it at that. The last thing I want is to get stuck in the middle."

"Alright," Ron said. "If you kill him though, I want my Galleon back." He was smirking, so Harry decided not to hex his best friend. It was Ron's way of dealing with things, and he respected that, in the same way he accepted George's teasing and Hermione's overbearing smugness.

Hermione had her 'lets change the subject' face on and handed over a copy of the_ Prophet_, already folded open to a particular page.

"Have you seen this, Harry?" she asked. "It mentions Bear."

"What?" Harry demanded. He snatched the paper from her outstretched hand and began to skim through the article.

"It's nothing to worry about," she assured him. "They've just decided to go on some mission to track down War orphans and he was on their list."

Harry found the bit about Teddy and rolled his eyes when his own name popped out at him.

"Typical. They've managed to shoe- horn my name in there too."

"They do most days," Ron said. "Do you ever read the paper any more?"

"No," Harry admitted. "Draco doesn't take it either, so I don't bother. You two tell me mostly anything I need to know."

"Why am I not surprised?" Hermione said with a wry grin.

The day followed a natural pattern for Harry and Draco; the latter would work until lunch, then take over looking after Bear so Harry could get on with whatever he wanted to do. With Ron and Hermione staying in the house too, it would have been easy for Draco to hide away until dinnertime. To his credit, he didn't.

Hermione was simply thrilled at the prospect of a library to entertain her during her short stay at Grimmauld Place. Her request to be shown the room was more like a demand and Ron and Harry settled themselves in the kitchen during the afternoon, sure that the two academics would be holed up for hours.

They weren't far wrong.

With little protest from Ron, Harry ordered a few pizzas for dinner and they braved the snow to go and collect them by foot. It was only after a the boxes were propped up against the coffee table like gravestones that the quartet started to relax in each others' presence.

Hermione and Draco sat on the sofa with one of Ron's Quidditch magazines open between them; Ron and Harry were on the floor with Bear between them, playing with something that wouldn't make too much noise.

"He's quite good looking," Hermione said.

Since finding out that Draco was gay, she seemed determined to get some kind of 'girl talk' out of him. Ginny had only ever been interested in Harry, she said, which wasn't very interesting to her because she wasn't interested in Harry 'like that' at all. And, of course, she'd never been able to talk about boys with Ron or Harry.

Draco wrinkled his nose. "No, you can keep that one."

Ron rolled his eyes at Harry and poured another glass of the warm, silvery alcohol that he'd brought with him.

"How about him?"

"He looks like Krum."

Ron's head popped up comically, his eyes wide.

"No he doesn't. He looks more like Harry."

"Well, I wouldn't kick him out of bed for eating biscuits." Draco looked up and winked surreptitiously in Harry's direction.

Ron looked up from where he'd been conjuring bubbles for Bear. "I wouldn't kick anyone out of bed if they had biscuits."

Draco pressed his lips together and looked away as Hermione snorted inelegantly, her hand flying up to cover her mouth before she collapsed in giggles.

"What?" Ron demanded. "What did I say?"

"Don't worry, Weasley," Draco said, smirking. "I won't tell anyone that you play for both teams."

Ron seemed to consider his previous statement, then blushed furiously. "Oh, shut up, Malfoy."

Hermione laughed harder, tears running down her cheeks. Bear was watching her with interest, clapping his hands and smiling as she clutched at her stomach to contain her giggles.

"Oh, sweetheart," she gasped, sliding from the sofa down into Ron's lap. "You know I don't mean it."

She kissed him on the cheek, then on the nose, then softened into a slow kiss. Harry couldn't help but smile at the two of them; their easy friendship and natural, loving relationship.

Ron harrumphed and wrapped his arms around her. Kissed her neck.

"I am taking my girlfriend to bed," he announced, standing with Hermione in her arms, making her squeal and wrap her arms around his neck to prevent being dropped on her arse.

"Goodnight," she called, waving merrily over his shoulder.

"Cast _Muffilatio_," Draco called after them, laughing.

Bear looked like he was getting tired; he had abandoned his toys and was rubbing his eyes with chubby fists. Harry scooped him up and Draco held out his arms. Instead of passing the baby over, Harry climbed up on to the sofa and sat in his lap, much like Hermione had curled up in Ron's. Draco chuckled and wrapped his arms around them both.

"_Accio_ bottle," Harry said, hoping his wandless magic was strong enough to Summon the bottle from the kitchen. After a few moments it landed in his hand with a satisfying smack.

"Clever boy," Draco murmured against his neck.

Harry smoothly transferred the baby from his shoulder to the crook of his elbow and thumbed the top off the bottle. Bear blinked at him with big brown eyes as he settled down and, feeling supremely content with his life in that particular moment, Harry turned his face to seek out Draco's kisses.

"Thank you," he whispered against Draco's lips.

"What for?"

"Being nice to my friends."

Draco huffed. "Well, I suppose Granger is on her way towards becoming one of mine."

"And Ron?"

"Is a work in progress."

Harry smiled. "That's all I ask for."

Their mouths connected again; soft, chaste kisses that couldn't go anywhere due to the almost- sleeping baby in between them, but conveying a different sense of togetherness. He couldn't help it – Harry's lips stretched into a smile.

Bear was fighting against the last moments before sleep came, no longer sucking at the bottle which Harry removed from his mouth with practiced precision. Climbing out of Draco's lap was harder as he tried not to wake the baby.

He was stopped at the door by Draco calling his name.

"Want to come and cast _Muffilatio_ at my door tonight?"

Harry smirked. "Let me get rid of this one and have a shower, and I'll be right there."

Draco nodded. "See you in a bit."

Time seemed to stretch as Harry forced himself to take as much of it up as possible and not to rush to get into Draco's bed. Bear didn't want to be left alone in the dark on his own, it seemed, so it took him a while to get the baby to settle. Then he took a long shower and made sure he was squeaky clean head to toe before pulling on a pair of loose pyjama bottoms and crossing the hall to Draco's room.

The other man was sat in bed, reading. Shocking to Harry, though, was his companion's similar state of semi- nakedness. Draco was shirtless. It was a big deal; an admission of past weakness and an open declaration of trust.

Harry wet his lips and cast a series of wards against the door, then changed the sound setting on the _conspectus_ charm to a volume which was loud enough to wake them, but not so loud that it sounded like the baby was in the room with them.

"Come here," Draco whispered, folding his book and setting it down on his bedside table.

He swallowed and took the four paces it took to cross to 'his' side of the bed, carefully folded back the soft white sheet and duvet and slid into bed. Draco shuffled down and raised an arm so Harry could cuddle in close.

Their mouths met in a seamless understanding that they were going to kiss; soft and passionate and caring with so much fucking _want_ between them. With Draco's fingertips running gently across his back Harry shivered and gasped against the pliant lips that were pressed against his own. Harry licked at Draco's plump bottom lip then caught it between his teeth and pressed down lightly, pulling at the soft flesh until Draco surged forward to prevent Harry's teeth causing him pain.

Harry rolled on to his back and pulled Draco with him until the other man was lying half on top of him, their hips rhythmically working together and doing nothing to hide their joined arousal. Under the sheets Draco was only wearing his boxers. His bare legs wrapped around Harry's and he moaned softly as their kisses grew more passionate, licking and nipping and tasting each other.

He wanted more and, ignoring the scars on Draco's back, slid his hand down the other man's spine until his fingertips skirted the edge of the elastic waistband that was the barrier between cotton and skin. Draco was never going to give him explicit permission to do this so, with trepidation, he slipped his hand under the boxers that stretched over his wrist (leaving a red line for him to find later).

Here Draco's skin was soft and smooth, unblemished, silky under his curious touch.

"I want to touch you tonight," Harry whispered breathlessly into Draco's ear. Then bit his earlobe. "I want to taste you, too."

"Fuck, Harry," Draco whimpered.

"Can I?"

"Yeah."

Harry pushed Draco's boxers down swiftly. They caught on his thighs but that didn't matter, the intention was clear and Draco kicked them off the rest of the way anyway. Harry quickly shed his own pyjama bottoms and then they were both naked, and Draco was lying on his side, still looking like Harry was some particularly delicious dessert to be licked into melted nothingness.

With slow, concentrated breaths, Harry gently pushed Draco on to his back and pressed a kiss to his mouth. Another to his throat. And collarbone.

Licked one pale pink nipple. Grazed his lips over a scar to prove that they weren't a big deal, but didn't linger there to reinforce that point. His destination was a little lower.

Draco's erection was full and thick, stretching up to his stomach where it lay there, waiting for Harry's touch.

"I've never done this before," Harry said unnecessarily, his fingers dancing over Draco's hip.

"That's okay," Draco replied. He gently stroked Harry's hair and divested him of his glasses, gently removing the wire frames and setting them down out of the way.

"Tell me if I do something wrong?"

"You won't." Draco smiled softly. He moved his knee so it was parallel to his hip, giving Harry a perfect place to rest his head - on Draco's thigh - as he gently explored the other's body.

Draco's cock was beautiful, a little longer than his own, Harry thought, but not as wide. The skin was so pale it was practically translucent; he could almost see the heavy vein pulsing with need and the pink skin over the head seemed flushed, or blushing. The hair here was fine and sparse, darker than the hair on Draco's head, lighter than that on his legs.

Harry trailed his finger up the length of it, starting with the loose skin at the base to the taught, shiny tip. It jumped under his touch. A glance up at Draco revealed he was chewing his lip and his hands were bunched in the sheets.

So beautiful.

Harry didn't realise he'd spoken aloud until Draco laughed.

"Touch me, please," he begged.

With his left hand Harry encompassed the length of Draco's cock and grasped it with the same sort of grip he used on himself, then stroked it experimentally. Draco groaned; a sound that seemed to echo through his chest before it was released from his lips.

Emboldened, Harry switched hands so his right could continue working Draco's shaft, while the other reached down to fondle his balls in their heavy sac.

It was all so familiar, and yet so new and strange; Harry knew when to squeeze his hand and when to be achingly delicate, teasing the other man in the same way he teased himself. He considered trailing his fingertips backwards, between Draco's cheeks but didn't quite have the nerve to try that yet. He had no intention of penetrating the other man just yet.

The sound of their combined ragged breathing filled the room and Harry felt the first prickle of sweat on his back. He used his thumb to tease Draco's balls further, his middle finger pressing down on the softness just behind there to create an even more intense pressure. The head of Draco's cock was leaking sticky, clear fluid now and his hips were canting just slightly up off the bed.

Harry wanted nothing more than to taste this man who drove him crazy and so, even though he had no idea what he was doing, he raised himself up until he could get the right angle to take the head of Draco's cock into his mouth.

"Merciful Merlin," Draco gasped and Harry had to let go to let out a giggle. "What?" he demanded.

"You're too adorable," Harry said and put his mouth back to good work.

He was pretty sure he was being sloppy and not all that good, but Draco didn't seem to care. Harry kept his hands busy as his tongue flicked over the soft head of Draco's cock, gathering up his taste and swallowing it with a low hum. He didn't have the confidence to try and take more of it into his mouth, but he seemed to be doing okay by sucking the tip and letting his hand do the rest of the work.

Draco looked... incredible, Harry decided. His calm composure was gone and his face and chest were flushed, his hair in disarray and his face screwed in pleasure. To his credit, Draco let Harry go at his own pace, figuring things out for himself, and didn't push for more.

"I'm close, Harry," Draco gasped, his hips rutting up into Harry's face.

Harry sucked harder in response.

"Move, Harry."

Mouth and cock separated with a wet slurp. "But I want to taste you."

Harry's fingers still drew teasing, featherlight circles on Draco's balls, making him completely forget his argument for more than a moment.

"Not this time. Stroke me, baby, please."

He knew what to do - tightening his grasp on the shaft and stroking harder, faster until Draco cried out, arching back off the bed as thick spurts erupted from the tiny slit in his cock. Harry watched, entranced.

Draco was breathing hard as Harry gently milked the last of his orgasm, shuddering when the intensity became too much. The evidence was Vanished silently and wandlessly before Harry had chance to follow through on his promise to taste it. Draco held out his arm for Harry to cuddle back in close.

With his erection digging into Draco's leg.

"You didn't come?" Draco asked.

"It was about you, not me," Harry said, a little embarrassed.

Draco's grin spread into a slow smirk. "Oh, let me fix that for you."

Their lips crashed together almost violently as Draco reached down and took hold of Harry's cock, spreading its wetness down the aching length and tugging on it in time with their kisses, a surely practiced stroke but one that shot fire into Harry's groin nonetheless.

"Fuck," Harry gasped as Draco followed up with teasing little bites; his lip, his jaw, his earlobe, finally closing his teeth around Harry's nipple and tugging.

Harry's scream of pleasure caused a chain reaction; he hadn't told his cock to respond but it did, shooting hard against his stomach as his lips sought out Draco's kisses again and again...

"Better?" Draco whispered, sniggering but not mocking.

"Much. You're amazing," Harry sighed and found his way back into Draco's arms.

"Believe it or not, the feeling's mutual."

xXx

The morning of Christmas Eve, George's owl arrived asking if he could stop by on his way to the Burrow. Harry quickly scrawled a reply and sent the bird back. Draco was already awake and in his lab, as was his morning routine, but Ron and Hermione were sleeping in. Enjoying the chance to do so, Harry assumed.

George and Angelina arrived in the kitchen Floo as Harry finished cleaning up the kitchen from the night before.

"Hey," he greeted his friends with hugs. "Do you want tea?"

"No, thanks," Angelina said, unwinding her scarf from around her neck. "Is Draco about?"

Harry nodded, confused. "Yeah, he's downstairs. I'll just get him." He walked to the little door that lead down to the basement and yelled for Draco to come up. "Is everything okay?"

"It's fine, mate," George said, smiling.

"Okay. Sit down," Harry said, taking his usual seat at the table. They could hear Draco stomping up the wooden stairs, even his footsteps petulant at being interrupted.

He was painfully polite when greeting George and Angelina; having collected Bear from George's flat once or twice after the couple had babysat for Bear there was a cordial, if not exactly warm relationship between the three.

"Sorry to just turn up," George said. "We wanted to talk to you about another option. About Bear."

Harry looked to Draco for confirmation, then nodded. "Go on."

"With Bear. I know the review of the custody arrangement is next week and we," George took Angelina's hand, "Angelina and I wanted to say that if you want, we'll take him."

"What do you mean?"

George smiled softly. "Harry, you're both still so young. And I know that I'm not exactly middle aged, but I've got the business and the flat and we're living together now. We can give him a good home too, you know? I don't want you to ever think that you didn't have the option to go and do things that you wanted to do because you had him."

"We don't resent him," Draco said mildly. "I love him, I want to be there for him. He's my family."

"I know that, and I understand," George said, keeping his voice neutral. "I'm not saying you have to. I just wanted you to know you have options."

"Thanks," Harry interrupted. "Really. We'll talk about it, if that's okay with you?"

"Of course," Angelina said, reaching over and laying her hand over his. "But really, Harry, do think about it. George and I will probably start a family in a few years. This is something that we've discussed in detail – we're not just going into this on a whim.

"I think," she said, continuing at George's nod, "That we're more likely to adopt one of the children who was orphaned in the War than have a baby of our own."

"There are plenty of children who don't have anyone," Draco said. Angelina looked to him and nodded solemnly. "Bear isn't one of them."

"Okay. Well, we've told you, and we need to get to Mum's for lunch," George said, standing and stretching. "See you later, yeah, Harry?"

Harry nodded. On impulse, he pulled George into a brief hug. "Thanks, mate. Really."

"No problem."

Harry lowered the Apparition wards so they could leave, hand in hand, then replaced them as Draco made tea for them both.

"Make enough for Ron and Hermione, would you? They'll be down in a bit, I'm sure."

"Okay."

"What are you thinking?"

"I don't know. My instinct was no. I don't want anyone taking him away from us when we've fought so hard to keep him. But they're not trying to take him away, they've got some misguided notion that they can be a real family for him in a way we can't."

"Because we're not a straight couple?"

"Exactly," Draco said, handing Harry a mug and sitting back down. "A few months ago I would have been raging mad at that. I suppose all of the money being spent on a psychiatrist is actually doing some good."

Harry smiled over the top of his mug. "Won't argue with that."

"Shut up. I just don't want to question what we're doing here. I know that we're good for him. I know that this is a good family arrangement, even if we aren't 'man and wife'."

"Non- traditional families aren't exactly a death sentence," Harry agreed. "I mean, before us Bear was being raised by his grandmother.

"Did you ever want children?" he asked on a whim.

Draco shrugged. "I was never really given much of a choice in the matter. I was brought up knowing that I needed to produce a son and heir."

"And now?"

"I wouldn't change Bear for the world."

"That's not what I'm asking and you know it," Harry laughed.

"Having children when you're a gay man is rather difficult."

"You could always change into a woman," Ron said as he walked into the kitchen and headed for the pot of tea. "The Muggles do it, you know, change their gender."

Draco shuddered. "No thanks. Girls are gross. No offence, Granger."

"None taken," she said lightly as she sat next to him. "So, what did George want?"

"He offered to take Bear," Harry said, looking at Ron. "To… foster him, I suppose."

"Why would he do that?" Ron asked. "And where do you keep the biscuits around here?"

"Top cupboard on the left," Draco said, amused.

"He thinks that we need to get out and live our lives and stop hiding in here trying to raise a baby."

"Wow," Hermione said. "What did you say?"

"That we'd think about it."

"Wow. When's the hearing?" she asked.

"First week in January. We don't have long."

"What are you going to do?" Ron asked. He split open the packet of digestives and dunked one in his tea. Draco wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Oh sorry, want one, Malfoy?"

"No, you're alright. Weasley."

"We need to talk about it more," Harry said. "And I was just asking Draco if he wanted children."

"I honestly haven't given it much thought, and thank you so much for pushing the issue."

"You're welcome."

"How about you?"

"Of course I want kids," Harry said. "When I'm… thirty five or something."

"Not for a while, then," Hermione laughed.

"How about you two?" Draco asked. "When are you going to make an honest woman out of her, Weasley? Shouldn't you start popping out the kids pretty soon?"

To his credit, Ron managed to not choke on his biscuit. "When we're ready."

Hermione hid her grin behind her mug.

"Well, you need to be careful, then. Want me to brew you a contraceptive potion?"

"No, thank you," she said primly. "We might be getting on well these days but that doesn't mean I trust you not to turn me into a rabbit or something."

"How crude," Draco said, matching her tone.

"If you two are trying to kill each other with politeness, it's not going to work," Harry said. "Where's Bear?"

"He was awake for a couple of hours last night. Teething," Draco explained. "I put him back down at about eight."

"Isn't there a potion to help with that?" Hermione asked sweetly.

"Watch it, Granger," Draco said good naturedly.

"Actually, I was hoping to get a better look at that lab of yours," she said with a genuine smile. "I've got loads of NEWT coursework to be getting on with."

"Oh, I see how it is," Draco said. "You insult my brewing abilities then demand a guided tour of my secret laboratory."

He stood, and offered his arm like a proper gentleman. "Come on then. I haven't got all day."

Hermione blushed a little as she took her mug in the other hand so she could thread her arm through Draco's.

"After you."

Ron turned to Harry. "Bet we don't see them again before lunch."

"Done. If I know Draco, it won't be 'til dinner."


	14. Hushabye Mountain

_A/N: WARNING: This chapter is a bit weepy.  
More from me at the end._

* * *

Chapter 14- Hushabye Mountain

Christmas morning dawned cold but clear and bright.

It was bittersweet.

Bear didn't know that the day was anything special, of course, and still needed his familiar routine to be able to function properly. The adults, as it were, shared a pot of coffee and layered up for the journeys that Hermione had planned and Ron had obtained the Ministry's permission for them to take.

They lined up in the living room; Bear balanced on Draco's left hip, his right hand in Harry's, Harry's right hand in Hermione's, Hermione's in Ron's.

The first, sharp pull of Apparition took them to Godric's Hollow.

It was here that Bear's parents had been laid to rest, only a few feet back from where Harry's own parents had lain for eighteen years. When they'd buried Tonks and Remus Harry had commissioned a marker, too, for Sirius.

The group was almost silent as they laid flowers at the graves of parents that were lost, of friends and Marauders and loved ones. Draco held tight to Bear as Harry kissed his fingertips and laid them first over his mother's name, then his fathers, engraved on the headstone that marked their resting place.

"I love you," he whispered.

Their second Apparition point was in a churchyard in the Devonshire village of Ottery St Catchpole. Here Ron laid roses for his brother; finding the grave wasn't difficult, finding a spot for the flowers amongst all the other floral tributes to the Weasley brother was.

Hermione kissed his cheek softly before they moved silently to the next spot.

Draco had no love for any of his family that had been lost in the War. But there was a sense of duty and respect from all four to visit the Northern town that was the childhood home of Severus Snape. Unlike Fred's grave, this one was bare. But not forgotten.

Another bouquet was laid.

The final stop on the slightly macabre, but infinitely important journey was to Hogwarts. It was Hermione who had made arrangements with the Headmistress for them to Apparate outside the school gates, then walk down to the edge of the lake to lay flowers for Dumbledore. No one met them on their short journey. They knew the way. And Hogwarts knew them.

Back in London the four separated; Harry and Bear to the garden, Draco to his bedroom, Hermione to the library and Ron to the living room. Just for a while. Just for long enough to collect their thoughts. Just so they could remember.

xXx

When Harry returned from the Burrow that afternoon he was surprised to see Draco napping on the sofa. The other man had claimed that there was plenty of tidying up to be done from Christmas dinner, and after that he had NEWT work to be getting on with in the lab. Although, Harry could see the temptation in falling asleep in front of the warm, crackling fire with the soft glow coming from the lights on the tree.

The tree. It was beautiful; a Norwegian pine that Draco had brought home one afternoon along with a box of live fairies that had to be fed twice a day on earthworms, but emitted an ethereal, otherworldly glow that made up for the grossness of the grubs.

Harry couldn't help the slow, sappy grin at Draco's sleeping form; his hands pillowed under his cheek with pink lips slightly pursed. It was still early in the evening, barely seven o' clock; he'd left Bear in Molly's care for a couple of hours on the understanding that Hermione would bring him back later. He'd managed to slip away quietly and surprisingly easily, making him wonder exactly how much Molly knew (or suspected) about his new relationship.

"Room for a small one?" Harry whispered as he crouched down in front of the sofa.

"Hmm?" Draco asked, raising a sleepy eyelid.

"Budge over."

Draco shifted back until he was flush against the soft cushions, raising his arm for Harry to snuggle in close. This was entirely new to them, far too intimate and 'couple-y' to do in company.

Although there was plenty of room on the wide, low sofa, Harry pressed the length of his body to Draco's until they were lying practically nose- to- nose. Harry raised his hand and gently ran his fingers through the dishevelled strands of soft blonde hair.

"What have you been doing?" he murmured.

"Mm. Cleaned the kitchen. Was going to read for a bit but I fell asleep."

"You looked like a painting when I came in. Like one of the portraits in the Headmaster's office."

Draco huffed but looked secretly pleased and leaned in to rub his nose against Harry's.

"Did you miss me?"

"Yeah," Harry admitted. "I really didn't want to leave you today, but they're the only family I've got, you know?"

"Yeah. Don't worry. My mother wouldn't even let me go visit her."

It had been something Harry was wondering about, but the topic was one too delicate to push. Narcissa had resisted every one of Draco's attempts to go and visit her in Azkaban and Harry knew how much it was hurting Draco to not just go, to turn up and demand to see her. It was a testament to how much he respected his mother's wishes that he desisted.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, leaning in and brushing his lips over Draco's in a barely- there kiss.

"Don't be. It won't be too long now before she's out." But Draco's arm tightened around Harry's waist.

"Will you need to go back and reopen the Manor?"

Draco nodded. "Yeah. At some point. I want to go through and clear out all of the awful stuff that's still there. I should just let a team of Aurors in to do their thing."

"I bet Ron would love that," Harry teased.

"I'm sure," Draco said drily. Their lips gravitated back to each other again, still kissing so gently, pooling liquid warmth in Harry's belly. This was a Draco that Harry had never known before. A sweet and incredibly loving, broken, tentative and vulnerable man.

"I want to make love to you," Harry admitted, his eyes closed, whispering the words.

"We will," Draco said. "Soon."

Harry dropped his head forward until it rested against Draco's forehead.

"Okay. Okay."

"I don't want to push you," Draco started, then held off Harry's protest with a peck on the lips. "And I'm not ready, either. Not for that. Not with you."

Draco's fingers had tugged up layers of fabric to rest his hand on the dip of Harry's spine. His thumb brushed back and forth gently, teasing and comforting and reassuring all at once.

"Did you get a jumper this year?" Draco asked, smiling.

"Yeah. It's green. Think she's trying to say something?"

"Oh god, I hope not."

Harry chuckled. "Me too. She's always known far more about us than anyone wants to admit."

"It's a mum thing," Draco said, then winced. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I feel like I'm starting to know my parents a little bit more, now that we've got Bear. I've got a better idea of what they went through at least."

"The paternal protective instinct?"

"Yeah. That."

"So… where is he?" Draco said, laughing a little.

"Still with Molly. Hermione said she'd bring him back later. Molly packed up some mince pies for us, I couldn't stop her."

Draco smiled again. "Can't say that I mind."

Talking was overrated when they could be kissing. Long, slow, unhurried kisses that couldn't go anywhere when they didn't know what time the others would be back, just taking the time to taste and touch each other in a way that was as scary as it was thrilling.

"I have something else I wanted to give you," Draco said as their lips eventually parted.

Harry smiled and ran his fingers through Draco's hair again. "You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to wait until we were alone to give it to you," Draco admitted. "_Accio_ Harry's present."

They sat up on the sofa as a small parcel flew towards them from the direction of Draco's bedroom. It was wrapped in midnight blue paper with a delicate silver ribbon.

"Merry Christmas," Draco said as he handed Harry the gift.

Slowly, and very carefully, Harry peeled the paper back to reveal an intricately carved wooden box.

"I don't understand," Harry said, turning the box over and over in his hands. It felt empty and he couldn't find the catch to open it.

"Wait," Draco said, his hand catching Harry's wrist. "I need to explain something first."

Harry looked at the other man with a little frown on his face. He wet his lips nervously. "Okay."

Draco looked nervous, too. "It's, um, it's a music box. I had one of the house elves find it from the Manor. It, uh, used to be mine when I was a child.

"Thing is, Harry," he took a deep breath. "I'm not really sure if it's Dark magic or not. I don't think it is. But I'm sort of wary of anything from that house now."

"How can a music box be Dark magic?" Harry asked, amused.

"It'll sing with your mother's voice," Draco said in a hushed voice.

Harry's mouth dropped open. His fingers fumbled and he nearly dropped the box. "How..."

"Mother used to leave it with me when she and father went to functions," Draco rushed to explain. "But she and Bellatrix would show me, when they opened it it would sing with a different voice. _Their _mother's voice. Even though she died years ago."

Harry took a deep breath and felt tears prickling at the back of his eyes. It was stupid, he told himself, he hadn't even heard it yet.

Draco released his wrist and said "Go on."

Suddenly, he knew how to open it. Running his thumb along the seam of the wood caused the lid to lift as if on an invisible string. A soft, ethereal voice started to sing:

"_A gentle breeze, from Hushabye Mountain, softly blows over Lullaby Bay,"_

Harry slapped his hand over his mouth as the first tears fell. It was his _mum._

He would have never remembered it if it weren't for the music box. He was completely entranced by the voice, taken back in time to the sweet smell of his mother's cheek, her warm arms rocking him even though he knew it didn't make any sense, that he couldn't really remember that far back.

The song ended and his sobs were the only sounds now filling the room. The top lowered silently back on to contain his mother's voice once more.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered, gathering Harry up into his lap. "I shouldn't have given it to you. I'm so sorry."

Soft lips brushed the tears from his cheeks and Harry pulled his glasses off.

"It's amazing. Thank you so much."

"You're not sad?"

Harry laughed softly. "Yeah. But... I have nearly nothing of my parents'. To hear her again after all this time... it's the most amazing thing in the whole world."

"I didn't recognise the song," Draco said. Kissed his forehead reverently.

"It's from a Muggle film. I can't remember the name of it now. But she used to sing it to me as a lullaby.

"Oh god, Draco."

With the light from the fairies still softly glowing in the tree, Draco held him tighter. "I thought that we could play it for Bear, too."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Tonks. Fuck. I miss her."

He still wasn't sure of the success of the gift; Draco felt the need to reassure with gentle kisses that spoke of calm and reassurance.

"You open it," Harry said and passed the box to Draco who shook his head.

"I don't know if I can."

"I'm here. It'll be okay."

With his teeth worrying his bottom lip, Draco ran his fingertips over the seam in the wood.

Harry would never have recognised the voice as Narcissa's. But then again, he'd never seen the woman as anything other than the ice queen wife of a Death Eater. She was surely more than that to Draco.

Just as Draco hadn't known Hushabye Mountain, Harry didn't know the sweet folk song that filled the room in a light, soprano voice; the words crisply enunciated on upper class vowels. It was beautiful in a completely different way.

"It's okay to miss her," Harry said, tucking his head under Draco's chin in a silent offer of some privacy.

"I do. A lot. It's the first time in my whole life I've been away from her for this long. And she won't write or let me visit or anything."

"She's a strong woman," Harry said as the song finished. "Do you really think it's Dark magic?"

He felt Draco shrug. "I don't know. It can recall the voices of dead women, Harry. It's surely not squeaky clean."

"I think," Harry said slowly. "That it's a bit like the Mirror of Erised. You could spend forever listening to it and get lost in the past, and forget about the present."

Draco nodded. "Yeah. I could see that."

"It's a sweet thing for a scared little boy, but it could be dangerous in the wrong hands."

"But that applies to nearly every type of magic," Draco argued.

"True," Harry acquiesced. "Thank you, Draco. Thank you so much."

"Any time," Draco whispered. "I'd do anything for you."

xXx

"How does it work, do you think?" Hermione asked, ever the analyst as she turned the music box over and over in her hands.

"I have no idea, Granger," Draco said, rolling his eyes, then leaning back into Harry's shoulder slightly.

Ron and Hermione had returned with a grouchy, over tired Bear who was dozing in Harry's arms as he took his nighttime bottle. However much Harry was desperate to keep the music box for himself, his desire to share it with his best friends won out.

Hermione looked up and caught Harry's eye. "Can I try it?" she asked hesitantly.

He nodded. "Of course."

Mrs Granger's voice sang a Muggle children's song that Harry vaguely remembered from his own childhood, then Ron took a turn and blushed a familiar shade of red as Molly's voice rang out in a pretty tune about a gnome called Norris and his dalliances with Delores.

"I'm almost scared to open it for him," Harry said, nodding to the baby in his arms who had watched he other's reaction to the music with great interest. Draco smiled and passed the box over.

Very carefully, Harry lifted the little boy's hand and ran it across the seam in the wood.

"_I don't give a damn about my bad reputation," _Tonks sang, causing Draco to throw his head back in laughter.

"You know, I think I would have liked my cousin Nymphadora," he said and wriggled his arm around Harry's shoulders.

There was something strange about being so intimate in front of his friends. Strange, but not necessarily unwelcome. Ron had been exceptionally good so far but Harry was willing to bet that wouldn't hold out if he and Draco started snogging with Ron in the room.

"She would have hexed you if you called her that," Ron said to Draco. Joking. Ron was joking with Draco. Harry felt the need to preserve the memory in a pensive.

"I'm going to go put him down," Harry said. He rolled his shoulders as he stood; Bear really was getting heavier.

"I'll come," Hermione said, kissed Ron on the forehead and followed Harry before anyone had a chance to argue. She brought the music box with her.

"I think it probably taps into your memories," Hermione said as Harry changed Bear for bed. She too rotated it in her hands over and over, seemingly trying to figure out its mysteries. "It doesn't matter how long ago it was that you heard your mum singing it, or how old you were at the time, it finds those memories and plays them for you again."

"That makes sense," Harry agreed, snapping up Bear's pyjamas. "I wonder if he remembers his mum singing anything appropriate for bedtime."

Hermione smiled as Harry settled the baby in his crib, then leaned over and brushed a kiss on his forehead.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," Harry murmured. He took the box from Hermione and, with Bear's eyes drooping, set it at the end of the crib. "He probably needs it more than I do," he explained with a shrug.

Hermione closed the door to the nursery behind them then threw herself into Harry's arms. He caught her with a surprised chuckle.

"You're just so _perfect_ for each other," she moaned into his neck. "I've never seen you this happy before, Harry."

"Really?" he asked, surprised.

"Yeah. Content. You're so content it _hurts._"

He smiled and squeezed her gently, then pried the clingy woman from around his neck. "I suppose."

"Don't fuck this up, Harry," she warned with raised eyebrows and a wagging finger. "He's good for you."

He kissed the still extended fingertip. "I won't."

"Do you love him?"

The question should have taken Harry aback, but for some reason, it didn't.

"Maybe," he said with a small smile and a shrug. "Maybe."

* * *

_A/N: Lily's voice sings Stacey Kent's version of Hushabye Mountain, originally from the 1968 film Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. It's hauntingly beautiful.  
Narcissa sings something akin to Edelweiss; imagine Julie Andrews' voice and you can't go far wrong.  
Tonks, of course, sings Bad Reputation by Joan Jett. _


	15. The Blackhawks

_A/N: A few people will know how much the names Black Hawk mean to me. This is a little nod to my boys.  
Thank you to Kira, who is still pre- reading this for me. And being awesome. As usual._

* * *

Chapter 15- The Blackhawks

Ron and Hermione definitely had to spend Boxing Day with the Weasley's, especially since they'd missed Christmas dinner the day before. The streets of London were pretty quiet; the chill and the snow keeping the sane people inside for the most part, making the decision for Harry and Draco to take Bear on a walk around the park an easy one.

Strapped into his new buggy, Bear looked decidedly excited to see the city in this new mode of transport. It was Ron and Hermione's gift to the baby; they didn't take him out nearly as often as they should, Hermione had decided, and the main reason why was that they didn't have a proper buggy to take him out in. It was a present for Draco and Harry just as much as it was one for Bear.

"Are we going to seriously talk about George's offer?" Harry asked, his hands shoved deep into his pockets to protect them from the cold.

Draco shrugged. "I don't see how we can. He's not ours to give away."

Harry sighed. "Yeah. I suppose."

"I meant what I said, Harry. There are plenty of children waiting for good homes. If they're that determined to take a War orphan then there's enough to choose from."

"So, the hearing…"

"I think we should ask for the same terms again. Another six months with the understanding that if Andromeda recovers then he'll go back to her."

"We don't really have a choice, do we?"

Draco sighed. "No. Not really."

There was still a chance that someone at the Ministry would object to them taking Bear for another six months, they were both aware of that. Or that Madame O'Connell or Ruth would have decided that Bear was better off with someone else.

The same hearing room was used as at the initial appeal when they arrived there, the first week in January. This time though, Harry and Draco stood side by side, Bear in his buggy next to them. Before they'd arrived they had decided that Bear would be Harry's responsibility and Draco would do the talking. Or, rather, Draco had decided that he would do the talking. It was what he was good at, after all.

The only sticking point was with regards to the press.

"I feel that a total media blackout with regards to the child is not an unreasonable request," Draco argued. "We have already had interest from an article printed before Christmas. The last thing this family situation needs is public attention."

"I appreciate your standpoint, Mr Malfoy," Howsham, the same wizard that had been present at the last hearing, said, "But by imposing a media blackout all we will be doing is stoking the media's interest. And you can be sure that when the blackout is lifted they'll be all over you like bugs on a Bowtruckle."

"I don't think we can practically enforce your request, Mr Malfoy," Madame O'Connell said, closing the file in front of her. "I am truly sorry. Any claims of harassment will, of course, be swiftly dealt with…

"Media aside, I am happy to grant Mr Malfoy and Mr Potter joint custody of the infant child Ted Lupin for a further six months, on the condition that any change in the medical condition of the child's maternal grandmother, Andromeda Tonks, remains unchanged. Any changes in Mrs Tonks' condition may result in the recalling of those present for further consideration. Do you understand?"

"Yes," answered both Harry and Draco.

"Court dismissed," Madame O'Connell said. "And gentlemen? Good luck."

xXx

Life continued.

Saturdays remained sacred to them both; Draco disappeared for hours and Harry steadfastly refused to ask where he was, what he did or who he was with. It was something that he'd been doing since before they moved in together, and it was easier to ignore the possible consequences of whatever he was doing than to challenge them.

Now that Christmas was over the Quidditch season would resume and Harry was more than a little excited for his first game with the team. They'd kept his membership to the team a closely guarded secret; Niko was determined that he be their 'secret weapon' that would stun the opposition into a spectacular loss, and thus move the Blackhawks up the league table several more points. It was strangely similar to pre- game tactics with Oliver Wood.

There was an understanding that on Saturday nights, when Draco returned from wherever he'd been, he needed more time to unwind than usual. Harry picked Bear up from Molly's when he'd returned to Grimmauld Place and showered, brought him home and waited. Not that he called it waiting. Sometimes Draco was home by five in the afternoon, other times it was closer to ten when Bear was already tucked up in bed, soundly asleep.

It wasn't that Harry wasn't curious. He was – insanely so. But more than his curiosity, he was respectful to Draco's privacy. There were, of course, things that he hadn't shared yet. Maybe he would in time.

After the Blackhawks' last training session before Harry's first match, Draco was home by about seven. And he brought Chinese takeaway with him. Harry smiled and turned his head up for a kiss.

"Thanks for dinner."

"Did you eat yet?" Draco asked.

"No. I was going to wait for you. Did you go to a Muggle place for that?"

"Yup," Draco said proudly. "I went to the bank this afternoon and changed up the money and everything."

Harry smiled. "I'm so proud of you."

Draco dumped a handful of change on to the coffee table. "I have no idea what to do with this, though."

"I'll sort it, don't worry," Harry said, laughing.

They ate on the sofa, much to Draco's chagrin but Harry insisted he needed to chill out more.

"What's this one?" Draco asked after they had pushed the leftovers to one side. He was holding up a shiny gold coin. "Looks like a miniature Galleon."

"It's a one pound coin," Harry said, smiling.

"Okay. And this one?"

"Guess," Harry said.

Draco turned the coin over and over in his hands. "Twenty pounds?"

"Almost. Twenty pence."

"But it says twenty on there!"

"There's a hundred pennies in one pound. That's twenty pence. Five of those are the equivalent of one pound."

"Yes, thank you, I can do basic mathematics. Who's the woman?"

"The Muggle Queen."

"Oh." Draco sighed heavily. "Muggle money is confusing."

Bear started to fuss from his spot on the floor; they quickly decided that Draco would put him to bed while Harry cleared up their dinner things and they disappeared to opposite corners of the house. Half an hour later Harry was stoking the fire in the grate when Draco returned.

"What did she sing tonight?" Harry asked.

The music box, rather than being confined to one voice or one song, sang a variety of different things. Tonks in particular had a rather eclectic taste in music, it seemed, and frequently sang rather inappropriate lullaby's to her son.

"Come To My Window?"

Harry shrugged. He was about as familiar with Muggle pop music as Draco was.

"Looking forward to tomorrow?" Draco asked as they settled back against the sofa, their feet stretched out towards the heat of the fire.

"Nervous," Harry admitted. "They seem to think I'm some big hotshot player that's going to 'save the team'…"

"And you don't?"

"No."

Draco laughed. "You underestimate your _flying_ abilities? Really?"

"I haven't played in a long time."

"But you have been training with them for weeks now. You'll be fine."

"Thanks."

"You should get an early night," Draco said, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

"It's only nine!"

"Oh, I'm sure we can do something to help pass the time," Draco said, laughing as Harry pulled them up and raced him to the bedroom.

The next day was truly miserable; rain drizzling from a sky that was a patchwork of grey on grey.

"You'll be fine," Draco insisted again as he returned from his shower and found Harry at the bedroom window, staring dejectedly out at the weather. He wrapped both arms around Harry's body and rested his chin on Harry's shoulder. Then kissed his ear.

"Thanks. Are you coming?"

"Of course. I was going to bring Bear…"

"Don't. He'll get soaked then get miserable. Then you'll miss me catching the snitch."

Draco smiled. "Okay. I'll go and call Molly when I'm dressed."

Harry turned and captured Draco's lips in a desperate kiss. "Thanks."

It was strange for him, dressing for a Quidditch match but not in the familiar red and gold uniform. The Blackhawks wore purple and black, his name was stamped across the back in white, with the number seven, the normal Seeker's number. The boots were the same ones he'd had in school; despite shooting up a few more inches in the past year his feet were thankfully the same size. Their familiar, bashed up, worn in-ness was comforting. That, and they were encrusted with what was almost certainly Hogwarts mud. It was like a lucky charm.

"Yummy," Draco said from the doorway, making him jump. "Come on, stop looking at yourself in the mirror or we'll be late."

"That's rich, coming from you. Where's Bear?"

"With Molly. She says good luck. You know where we're going?"

"Yup."

"Will you take me too?"

Harry nodded. "Come on. Let's get this over with."

xXx

This was Quidditch like he'd never played it in school. He'd thought the Slytherins were rough. It was nothing compared to the Hornets, a violent, all male team from Liverpool who were bashing the living hell out of them. After ten minutes they were already sixty points down and the Hornets' Seeker, some bloke called Peterson, was doing his best to knock Harry off his broom.

It was rather humiliating. George and Angelina had caught wind of his recent foray into the world of Saturday league Quidditch and had come out to support him, Lee Johnson was there too, and Draco was watching from a different part of the stands. Despite the weather there was close to a hundred people watching, Harry guessed. The roar when they'd heard his name had been nearly deafening.

Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, Harry saw a glint of something right in the middle of the field. It mean having to fly back into the rain (which was now driving down in sheets), but he was determined to get this first game over and done with as soon as possible.

He literally flew a circle around Peterson (who, according to Niko was not the Hornets' first choice Seeker) and leaned down, shooting towards the spot where he was sure he'd spotted the snitch.

In a harrowing echo of his first ever Quidditch match at Hogwarts, the little golden ball flew straight into him. Smack between the eyes. Fortunately, his reflexes were good enough to prompt his hand to reach out and grab it before he checked his face for permanent damage.

The rest of the team piled on top of him and helped him get to the ground in one piece.

"Sixteen minutes!" Niko kept yelling. "New team record! We won in sixteen minutes!"

The Hornets were furious. The crowd were wet (and relieved it was over so quickly).

Harry smiled and joined in the excited chatter, but the searing pain between his eyes was distracting. Niko ushered his 'star player' over to the team nurse, who assessed that nothing was broken and gave him a vial of potion for the pain, which quickly dissipated.

"You were great out there," a warm, upper class voice said, although it chattered from the cold.

Harry whirled around.

"Thanks," he said, smiling. "It felt great to play again."

"The others send their congratulations but, and this is a direct quote, George said they were going to go 'get in from the fucking cold'."

"Want to go home?" Harry asked, his mind filling with the thought of a hot bath. And a warm body to share it with.

"It's usually customary in situations such as these to celebrate in a pub of some sorts." Draco appraised the soaking, muddy form in front of him. "After a shower."

Harry raised his eyebrow. "Shower?"

"Stop being a pervert and go and get changed."

Harry shook his head and went to track down his team captain. Niko was still celebrating with the team in the changing rooms, his outer clothes in a wet heap on the floor.

"Look, I need to head back…" Harry started.

"You can't!" Niko exclaimed. "We need to buy you a pint!"

"That's okay, really. I need to get back to my godson."

"Nice game, Harry!" Jenny called from the shower. She'd managed to get one goal in, bringing the total score to a respectable 160-60.

"Thanks," he called back.

"You'll be back next week for training?" Niko asked, looking concerned. "No room for slacking!"

"Of course," Harry insisted. "I'll see you on Saturday, yeah?"

Draco was waiting outside, ready to take them back to the house.

"Tired?" he asked as they landed straight in the bathroom.

"A little," Harry agreed.

"Do you need some help washing your back?"

It was an invitation. One that there was no chance in hell Harry was about to pass up.

"Only if it's help from you."

Draco smiled; one of those warm, contented smiles that starts deep in the belly and spreads through the chest and outwards until that little moment of happiness envelops anyone who has the fortune to stumble upon it. He started the shower to heat the water up and began to gently remove Harry's wet clothes while Harry stood still and let him, raising his arm or leg at the right moment to help.

When Harry was naked he ducked under the shower and let Draco strip off, then join him in the swirling heat. It didn't take long for the water to warm them through. Then the kissing started. It was what Harry imagined kissing in the rain would be like, only more intimate, more private, more naked... and much warmer. Draco's wet hands ran up and down the length of his back.

"You smell like outdoors."

Harry smiled and nodded. "Probably."

He heard the click of the bottle of shower gel then strong hands and long fingers started to work it into his shoulders. His hair was washed with the same deferent care. Draco made sure none of the suds ran into his eyes. That was important.

They were both hard, but that didn't seem to matter too much. Draco stood behind Harry, now, his arms wrapped around Harry's body while his fingers gently washed the mud from Harry's hands. This, too, was strangely intimate - having someone else wash his hands. Not unpleasant, though.

"I think I'm ready," Draco said, his voice rising above the sound of the falling water.

The words could have been interpreted any number of ways. Harry knew what he wanted them to mean.

"Me too," he said softly. He turned the water off and laid a kiss on Draco's cheek, then dried them both with a quick drying charm. The house was dark, because of the weather, not the late hour, and they walked to Draco's room hand in hand.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked as they fell on to the bed, hands already exploring and skin and muscles tightening.

"Yes. So very yes," Draco whispered against his neck.

The storm had turned nasty as they had showered and it would have felt like some kind of stormy night cliché if it weren't for Draco's hands, Draco's lips doing these things to him, the knowledge that this wasn't just his first time, it was his first time with _Draco_.

The little round tin from Draco's bedside table was now a familiar part of their night time activities. Harry reached for it and slicked up his fingers then caressed the spot behind Draco's balls as his mouth teased nipples and navel and the head of a sticky, hard cock.

With the pad of his finger, Harry circled Draco's tight opening gently before tucking his finger up and inside. Draco gasped and Harry just had to kiss him, it was an aching need that he couldn't ignore. Their kisses were sloppy with desire; tongues sliding together wetly and teeth leaving sharp little nips on swollen lips.

Just as Draco had showed him, he switched his index finger with his middle one, gently replacing one with the other until Draco was ready for him to press both fingers in together. The tight ring of muscle clamped down around Harry's fingers and he buried his face in Draco's neck as they both gasped for breath.

"Tell me when I find it..." Harry said, searching inside for that spot that had made him see stars.

"Oh, you'll know, don't worry," Draco said on a breathless laugh.

It was Harry's turn to laugh as he found a little raised bump deep inside Draco and pressed down on it experimentally, causing Draco to let out a most feminine gasp.

"There... right there," Draco said.

"I guessed as much," Harry teased, turning his head back for more kisses.

"Please, Harry, please," Draco begged against his lips.

"Okay."

Harry removed his fingers gently and sat back on his heels. He used more of the lubricant to slick his cock, probably taking more time than was necessary to make sure it was fully covered. As he did this, Draco flipped himself over, dropping to his forearms and knees as he spread his legs obscenely wide. Harry could see the heavy balls hanging between his legs with their light dusting of blonde curls and the thick cock with its painfully aroused pink tip.

"You sure-" Harry started but was interrupted with Draco's pained:

"Yes, now..."

It was a now-or-never moment as Harry moved behind the other man, not questioning their positions, just accepting Draco's better knowledge of sex. With one hand on Draco's hip, steadying him, and the other guiding his own cock, Harry pressed the blunt end against Draco's stretched opening and waited for the other man's body to accept his.

They both cried out as Harry slid inside the first few inches, although the sound was almost entirely drowned out by a heady crash of thunder. Draco's bedroom was warm, a little sanctuary from the storm, causing sweat to prick at Harry's neck and spine as he watched the truly phenomenal spectacle of his cock disappearing into the tight heat of Draco's ass.

Draco didn't seem to be satisfied being the submissive partner. His body arched and rolled, his spine in constant, languid, sexual motion; Harry found himself being taken deeper into Draco's body, not by his own force, but by the gentle rocking of Draco's hips.

It was sublime. One of his hands ran the length of Draco's spine, his hand flat, feeling every bump of his vertebrae, each white, raised line of scar tissue. The other curled around Draco's waist, gently angling their bodies together, not that they seemed to need any outside help to _know_ each other like this.

The heat, the tightness, it was almost too much. He'd never felt this vital, this alive before. And it was all about the blonde haired man beneath him. It was _Draco_ making him feel this way.

He moved his hand from Draco's hip and braced it on the bed, arching over the undulating body and fixing his lips between sharp shoulder blades, sucking the salty skin into his mouth and licking at the sore spot. Under him, Draco whimpered.

"Is this okay?" Harry whispered.

"Yes," Draco whimpered. "So good."

"Good."

Harry's hand moved, finding Draco's on the bed and cautiously linking their little fingers together. Another boom of thunder shocked him, and his head turned to the window to where the rain was sluicing down the glass. Their reflection was distorted by the weather outside, they looked animal, inhuman. He turned away instinctively but on the opposite wall was the large, ornate mirror that reflected their lovemaking in perfect, crystal clear quality.

"Draco," Harry murmured. "Look."

Draco turned too and chuckled softly when he caught Harry's eyes in the mirror.

"Deviant," he said. Harry thrust harder, Draco screwed his eyes shut and groaned. "Fuck, you feel good."

Harry's balls slapped repeatedly against Draco's, a disgustingly arousing sound of skin on sweaty skin, realising the reality of gorgeous, erotic, dirty sex like this. But he wanted more. More Draco, more kissing, just more...

Harry sat back and slid his hand around to Draco's sternum, pulling him back too so his chest was pressed into Draco's back and they could twist together for more of those delicious kisses. He found, too, that in this position he was perfectly placed to wrap his hand around Draco's cock, stroking him in time with what was now a slow, intense grind towards orgasm.

"Close, Harry," Draco gasped against Harry's lips.

"Me too."

His hand flew over Draco's cock until the still writhing man in his lap arched and cried out, as erotic and sexual in his orgasm as he had been from the first kiss. Harry followed him, lost in the bliss and the thudding of his heart that echoed in his cock and balls as they blissfully released, deep inside the man he was still holding, still pressing close to his body.

Harry dropped his forehead to Draco's shoulder and screwed his eyes shut as he got his bearings.

"Oh my god," he murmured.

Draco laughed softly. "Yeah. Oh yeah."

"There's no elegant way of moving from here, is there?"

"Not at all. Close your eyes, Potter."

Instead of feeling the sting of rejection from the use of his surname, these days it filled him with an amused warmth. They fell back on to the bed in a tangle of sticky limbs, casting cleaning spells and stretching out cramped thighs.

They ended up lying nose to nose, the only way Harry could see into grey eyes from this distance without his glasses.

"Are you okay?" Harry murmured, brushing hair back from Draco's eyes. "Did I hurt you?"

Draco hummed low in his throat. "It didn't hurt in a bad way. I'm sore, but it feels good. A good ache."

Harry kissed the hollow of his throat. Their fingers tangled together, moving slowly in a vaguely erotic dance.

"Okay. Good."

"It was amazing, Harry," Draco said, reassuring him with his words as well as his fingertips. "You were amazing."

Harry felt the blush in his cheeks and snuggled in further to hide it.

"We'll have to move in a minute. We need to go and get Bear."

"Please, Harry," Draco said in a pained voice. "Don't mention our baby when we're naked and riding a sex high."

Harry laughed. "Okay. We can stay here for a few more minutes."

He felt like he could almost reach out and touch the glow around them; despite the cold and the rain, this feeling was like tangible magic in the air between them. Draco's fingers gently played with the spiky strands of his hair and deep in his chest, there was the sort of calmness he hadn't felt in years. Hadn't felt _ever,_ if he was honest with himself. It sort of felt like maybe, finally, this was family. This was home.

* * *

_A/N: Tonks sings Come to My Window by Melissa Etheridge._  
_I've done this before with varying results:_  
_If you leave me a little review, I'll send you a teaser for the next chapter. Anonymous is on. I'm terrible, I know!_


	16. Gone

Chapter 16- Gone

Andromeda, bless her, had good timing.

As they edged tentatively into February pressure began to mount from all directions for them to do something 'special' as a 'couple' for Valentine's Day. Not that anyone actually vocalised this. It was just there, hanging over them both like a depressing, heart shaped spectre.

They received an official St Mungo's owl from Ruth on the morning of the 13th to say that Andromeda had awoken after more than eight months in the cursed coma. It was being hailed as a huge leap forward in magical medical healing. Several years ago, the Healers said, they would never have expected her to wake up.

Harry found it hard to be thrilled when his future was so uncertain. When _Bear's_ future was now so uncertain. He was relieved, of course, that Andromeda would be okay, but there was still that nagging 'but' at the back of his mind…

He and Draco rushed to the hospital to visit the very tired, very weak woman and gain a better understanding of where this left them. According to the Healer in charge of Andromeda's care, it would only take about a week to build her back up to her full strength, such was the power of the restorative and healing potions that they had at their disposal.

One week.

It felt like a sentence.

The owl from Madame O' Connell was not unexpected. The date for the new hearing was set for ten days in advance of her letter. Harry considered contacting Hermione, then Molly, or McGonagall, but no one could really help them. This wasn't a custody battle – they had never been granted custody in the first place. They were just temporary guardians.

"What are we going to do?" Harry whispered, late one night, in the dark, begging Draco for an answer.

"Nothing," Draco said, rolling over. "There's nothing we can do."

The mood inside Grimmauld Place became increasingly depressed as the days ticked past… six more days with Bear, four more days, it's okay, we still have the weekend, tomorrow…

It was left to Harry to pack up the nursery. Draco refused to go in there.

On the morning of the hearing they packed a bag, packed up their Bear, and left without speaking one word to each other. The process was treated as a simple handing over of the baby. Andromeda had been reunited with her grandson at St Mungo's by Ruth, who had intervened on behalf of Draco and Harry. After each of them had laid a quick kiss on his head, it was done. And he was gone.

"It's not like we won't ever see him again," Harry said as they rode in the lift back to the Atrium. "He's only with Andromeda."

"I know."

"She even said that we can go over there whenever we like."

"I know."

"Will you just talk to me?"

Draco met his eyes for a brief moment. "No."

xXx

The house was eerily silent when they returned. _Of course it's quiet_, Harry thought to himself. _There's no one here_.

Andromeda didn't have everything she needed to take care of an almost one- year- old child; after all, he'd only been three months old when she last saw him. So they'd packed most of the clothes, some of the toys and little bits of baby paraphernalia that had taken over their lives and sent it back off to the house that was Bear's new home.

He didn't even know if he'd be 'Bear' any more. Maybe he'd go back to being Teddy again.

Draco was withdrawing himself, almost visibly back into his shell where it would take hours or days to get him back again.

"Come here," Harry said, drawing the other man down onto the sofa.

"I can't believe he's really gone."

"I know. I know."

It was a strange sort of evening. There was no third person to cook for, no one to worry about getting changed for bed and bedtime stories and the inherent calmness of the last bottle before bed where they'd all three curl up together for a few minutes. The _conspectus_ charms couldn't be switched off and Harry couldn't help but flick his eyes to it every few minutes, looking for reassurance because something in his belly was saying that something was wrong.

The sight of the empty crib made him feel sick. All his worst nightmares had come true, but that was selfish and he tried to bury those feelings under the happiness that Andromeda had recovered to a stage where she could take her grandson home.

No matter how many times Harry told himself that Bear was home, he had trouble believing his own protestations.

It didn't matter, either, that Draco said he had work to be getting on with after they had finished dinner, and needed some peace and quiet so he could work. Harry knew that he wasn't in the basement brewing something spectacular – he was down there sulking.

When the clock in the hall chimed midnight, Harry rose from his lonely spot in the living room and stretched before wandering down through the house.

There was a smoky, almost lavender scent coming up from the basement and it only grew stronger as Harry ducked through the door to the basement and descended the wooden stairs.

"Hey," he called, hoping not to startle Draco.

He jumped anyway. The grey eyes were bright and filled with excitement. "I've got it."

"Got what?"

"The Dreamless Sleep variation. I've been testing it for hours and it's definitely there."

Harry allowed himself to smile. "That's fantastic. Well done."

"I knew it was something in the brewing that was causing the problems, because the ingredients were perfectly balanced and it was just a case of varying the heat… it needs to boil before it simmers then –" he broke off suddenly. "I'm boring you."

"No, you're not," Harry said.

He walked over to the other man and gently brushed strands of hair back from his face. Draco's hair was getting long again but he didn't seem to be in any hurry to cut it. He was, however, very vocal in insisting that Harry get his own unruly mess cropped short. Molly Weasley had done the honours. Harry was loathed to admit that he liked it… but he sort of did. It made him look older.

With genuine happiness for Draco's success, Harry pulled him into a hug. They stood shoulder to shoulder, almost the same height but Draco having the advantage if they were pressed to acknowledge it. He smelled, Harry realised, like cigarette smoke again, baby powder, and potions.

"It's late," Draco murmured. "We should go to bed."

"Will all this be okay overnight?"

Draco waved his wand and extinguished the few fires that were still burning under the iron cauldrons. "Now it will."

They Apparated back to Draco's room, not having to worry about the pop and crack waking the baby. Harry took the bathroom first, brushing his teeth and changing before heading back to Draco's bed automatically. Thinking back, he couldn't remember the last time he slept in his own.

When he returned, Harry opened his arms to Draco and hoped that the other man recognised this need for comfort. The pale skin was cold from the tiled bathroom floor. Harry knew things were okay when icy feet were pressed into his warm thighs.

"I'm not a bloody radiator, you know," he said, not really annoyed.

"No. You're much snugglier."

"Is it wrong to miss him this much?"

"I hope not. I want him back, Harry."

"Me too."

Harry extinguished the lights but left the bedroom door open. From where they were lying he could see straight across into the empty nursery. Draco had tucked his head under Harry's chin, the rest of him sprawled half over Harry's upper body. Harry folded his arms around Draco's back and sighed.

"Do you think we should talk about stuff?" he asked.

"Like what?" Draco sounded amused.

"I dunno. School stuff. Our very colourful history."

"Why would we want to talk about that?"

"Stop answering questions with questions," Harry laughed. He leaned down to kiss Draco's hair. "You can't argue that this isn't weird at times."

"It's weird because I spent the better part of two years lusting after you," Draco said, determinedly playing with Harry's happy trail. "It's weird because it feels like a dream some days. Being here with you."

"I wish I'd known that at school."

"Why?" Draco said, pulling harder on the fine hairs. "So you could use it against me?"

"I would never have used something like that against you," Harry said, affronted. "It would have shocked the living hell out of me, yes, but I wouldn't have blackmailed you or anything."

"Or Sectumsepra-ed me?"

"That's out of order."

"Yeah, I know," Draco sighed. "I'm sorry. Talking about this stuff hurts, you know?"

"_Everything_ hurts, Draco," Harry said, his arms, which had stiffened with the insult relaxing again as he cradled Draco's body against him. "All of this shit in our past. None of it smells of bloody roses."

"What about your aunt and uncle."

"What about them?" Harry sounded tired, Draco noticed.

"Did you tell them that it's over?"

"No. Someone from the Ministry sent them a message. I suppose they've moved back to Little Whinging now it's safe."

"But they're your only family..." Draco started, but Harry was already shaking his head.

"They're not my family. I've known that since I was old enough to talk."

"That's... really sad," Draco said eventually.

"Will you stay?" Harry asked. It was the biggest question of them all. The question about family had got to him more than he'd ever admit aloud. Draco and Bear had been his family, for six glorious months, and made him feel normal again. To lose Draco too...

Draco buried his face in Harry's neck. "Please don't do this to me."

"I don't want you to leave. But I can't force you to stay."

"We don't have an excuse, any more," Draco's voice was muffled. "There's no reason for me to be here."

"I'm here."

"I know."

"I don't want to lose you too."

They were silent for an incredibly long time as they both seemed to consider this last statement. Then, when Harry was right on the edge of sleep, Draco whispered: "You won't."

xXx

"Thanks for coming today, Harry," Miranda said, gesturing for them to sit.

He was surprised at the woman who sat in front of him. Draco's therapist was much younger than he expected, probably only in her early twenties. Fashionably dressed in clothes that emphasised her curves, her face was warm and smiling but the notebook she had set on her lap was a constant reminder of why they were there.

Miranda tucked a lock of her dark, straight hair behind her ear and cocked her head to the side just slightly, waiting for his response.

"Oh. No problem."

"I'm not sure how much Draco has told you about our sessions together..."

"Not a lot," Draco admitted. "I just think, after this week, Harry probably needs to talk about stuff just as much as I do."

Miranda nodded. "That's fair."

"I have a question," Harry said quickly, blushing as he interrupted the flow of the conversation.

"Go on," she encouraged.

"I, uh, I know these reports are filed with the Ministry. I don't know... how much do you know about..." Harry waved his hand in the space between himself and Draco, not wanting anything to go on record.

Draco smirked and tried to hide it. Miranda smiled reassuringly.

"I'm very selective in what I report back," Miranda said. "Draco and I rarely discuss Dark magic, which, if I'm honest, is all the Ministry is really concerned about. There isn't any need for them to know about his personal life."

"Okay. Good."

"It was a genuine concern," she commented. "Why do you think you have this concern about people knowing about your relationship with Draco?"

"You don't understand," Harry said. "People won't like it when they find out about us."

"What makes you feel that?"

"We had a very public dislike of each other at school. And this has happened so quickly..."

"Forgive me," Miranda said, flicking back through her notebook, "but I thought you and Draco had been intimate for six months or more?"

Harry turned to the other man, frowning.

"Don't look at me like that," Draco admonished. "You can't lie to your shrink. It's against the rules."

Draco smiled softly and put his hand on Harry's knee.

"Can I ask you something?" Harry asked Miranda. Draco's hand hadn't moved.

"Of course."

"What do you think of this?"

Miranda laughed. "It's not for me to judge, Harry."

"I'm not asking you to judge, just to tell me what you think. Hardly anyone knows about us. I want to know how it looks from the outside."

She sat back, crossing her feet at the ankles. "It's hard to say, really, because I'm only meeting you for the first time today. I don't think Draco will mind me saying he's changed an awful lot since he moved in with you, for the better, of course. You've been very good for him, and I can only hope you feel the same way in return.

"What I'm interested in, is how you think your relationship will progress now you don't have Bear as a common denominator."

Draco lifted his hand from Harry's knee and ran it through his hair. It was a subtle move, but one that freed Harry from his touch nonetheless.

"I think we'd both like to know the answer to that," Harry said drily.

"Okay, how would you like it to proceed?"

Harry chewed his bottom lip as he thought how to phrase his wants, his desires for their relationship. "I would like Draco to stay," he said eventually.

"Stay living with you?" Miranda asked.

"Yes."

"Draco, how do you feel about that?"

"It's not as easy as that," Draco growled, frustrated. "My mother will be released in a few months and she's going to want her son and her Manor, not an empty house and her only child shacked up with another man."

"Maybe you underestimate your mother," Miranda said. "Surely she'll be happy in your happiness?"

"No," Draco said stubbornly.

"Okay," Miranda said, seemingly unaffected by Draco's childishness. "How about if you still had Bear? Would that change things?"

"Of course it would!" Draco exclaimed.

"Is there any reason why you couldn't continue to be his primary carers?"

"We always knew he wasn't ours to keep," Harry interjected.

"Have you raised the possibility of taking him back with Mrs Tonks?"

"Well, she's hardly going to want to give him back to us when she only just got him herself, is she?" Draco said, rolling his eyes.

"You won't know unless you ask her," Miranda said. "Maybe you can discuss that more between the two of you." Then she changed the subject. "I'm interested in your identity as a gay man, Harry. You've already mentioned your concerns about the way your relationship will be viewed."

"I don't know if I have an identity as a gay man. I'm sort of just me."

Miranda smiled. "Okay. Let me put it another way. If it weren't for Draco, would you still consider yourself to be gay? Is it your relationship with him in particular that you fear being taken negatively, or being gay in general?"

Harry shrugged and considered the knee of his jeans. In detail.

"Harry," Draco said and Harry looked up. "Would you tell Mrs Weasley about us?" Harry's jaw dropped a little bit.

"But you hate the Weasleys!"

"I do not," Draco said huffily. "She's the closest thing you have to a mother, Harry. If you were really not ashamed to be with me, then you would tell her."

"Okay," Harry said, throwing his hands up in defence. "Yes, I think I'm still gay, even if it wasn't for Draco. No, I probably wouldn't be as in tune with my sexuality if it weren't for him because it's well documented that I am very capable of repressing my feelings. Yes I will tell Molly about our relationship."

"Wait, what?" Draco said, shaking his head. "That's a lot to take in all at once."

Harry reached across and took Draco's hand. "This is important to me. I'm not very experienced when it comes to relationships and I'm even less experienced when it comes to sex, but you make me want to try to get better at it."

"Sex or relationships?" Draco asked. His lips twitched into a smile.

"Okay, lets get this back on track," Miranda said. "Harry, do you have any particular issues you want to raise about sex or your relationship?"

"Too many to mention."

"Anything in particular?" she pressed.

"No. I think we can figure it out for ourselves, actually. I'm sort of looking forward to that bit."

"Okay," Miranda said. "So, for next time I would like for you to come up with some ideas on how you can progress the situation with Andromeda and Bear. You don't have to have definite answers, just some ideas. Do you think you can do that?"

Harry nodded, looking to Draco for reassurance. He got it with a gentle squeeze on his hand.

"Well done, Harry," she said with a smile, closing her notepad. "We sort of threw you in at the deep end today. You did really well."

"You want me to come back?" he asked.

Miranda cocked her head to the side, considering him. "I would like you to. You're under no obligation, of course. But I think it's sort of twisted how the Ministry thinks that Draco needs help dealing with the mental and psychological effects of the War, and you don't."

It was left like that, in Harry's hands to make a decision on how he wanted to take things forward. Draco, of course, didn't have a choice in the matter.

That night, in bed, Harry curved himself around the arch of Draco's back, aligning their bodies like pieces of a very simple puzzle. As Draco rocked his hips back, pressing his arse into Harry's groin, Harry felt himself grow hard.

They were both bare chested, this being the norm for them now, and the presence of a warm body next to him dispelled Harry's need to wear pyjama bottoms. So they just wore boxers to bed.

Feeling that Draco's seduction was deliberate, Harry flattened his palm on Draco's chest and gently ran it over the soft skin. The presence of scar tissue meant that Draco had few hairs there, unlike Harry who had always liked the manliness of the hairs on his own chest. But Draco was undoubtedly beautiful in his own way.

"When did you get such nice abs?" Harry said, teasing, his breath dancing over Draco's exposed shoulder.

"Red potion," Draco recited, "For strength and muscle tone."

Harry laughed. "You've been taking it all this time?"

"It wasn't so hard to find out what was in it. I just distilled it down and separated the individual components, then reassembled it in the most logical formula."

"You're so clever."

"Mm."

Their hips were rolling together more insistently now and Harry ran his fingertips over a strong hipbone, eliciting an excited shiver from his bedmate.

"Draco..."

"Yes?"

"Can we... can we have sex like this?"

He meant the position and the repeated shiver from Draco suggested he understood.

"I don't see why not. I never have before, though."

"I'll make it good for you, I promise."

For the first time, Draco broke position, looking back over his shoulder and gently trailing the back of his fingers over Harry's cheekbone.

"You always do."

Harry caught the fingers between his lips in a brief kiss, then kicked of his boxers under the covers. Draco laughed softly and followed suit, then snuggled back into Harry's warm embrace.

The small tin of lubricant was Summoned from the bedside drawer and Harry noticed, with a little embarrassment, that they were running low. Not that they needed to use very much; the substance in the tin was almost waxy, but in the heat of his hand would turn to slippery liquid.

He worked it into Draco with gentle, measured strokes, kissing the back of the other man's neck and shoulder. Draco had pulled his top leg up to his chest for better access and was almost whimpering with pleasure as Harry sought out his sweet spot.

After the third finger was inside Draco, Harry took his time making sure he was relaxed and stretched, always hyperaware of not wanting to hurt him. But he was also aware of the little noises that Draco would make when he was close to orgasm, and pulled his fingers out before that could happen.

"Okay?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. Please," Draco said, his incoherency somehow a turn on.

Harry used some of the lubricant to slick up his cock, then moved so they were in the same, knees to backs of knees, chest to back, ass to groin position that they had snuggled in before. He slipped his right arm under Draco's neck, his palm flat on Draco's chest and his left hand gripped Draco's hip as he slowly eased himself into Draco's hot, tight asshole.

Draco whimpered.

"Okay?" Harry asked again.

"Yes. So good." He gasped again as Harry pushed forward until his hips met the soft resistance of Draco's smooth cheeks.

Harry turned his head and rested his face on Draco's shoulder. This was sex with a slow intensity they hadn't experienced before. The position left no room for thrusting, instead, their movements were a deep grind of hips on hips.

At some point Draco's fingers found Harry's, the ones that had been wrapped around his hip, and tangled them together. Harry could feel Draco's toes curling with intense pleasure as the head of his cock gently bumped against Draco's sweet spot. And the noises they were making were incredible; breathtaking gasps and low, deep moans of pleasure.

"Draco," Harry murmured, trying out the other boy's name on his lips while lost in the act of sex. "Oh god, Draco."

It sounded different to how Harry said the word during the day. Draco. '_If you're making tea, I'll have one, Draco.'_ Draco. '_Draco, did you put the bins out?'_ Draco._ 'I swear to god, Draco, if you don't tidy up your shit I'm going to Vanish the lot of it.'_ Draco.

This was different. This was intense, passionate, the last, round Oh of his name giving way to the most natural, soft whimper from the back of his throat. This was '_Draco, I want you'._ Draco.

Suddenly, their movements were charged with a new kind of electric intensity. There was still no room to move, but Draco dragged Harry's hand to his neglected cock, taking it in his own hand and directing Harry's to his balls.

When Draco came, he arched his back and cried out, hot spunk spurting up against his belly.

When Harry came he buried his face in Draco's neck and rode through the lack of oxygen to his brain, shuddering with the intensity of just being inside someone else who was feeling it too.

Draco cast a cleaning spell against himself and, chuckling softly, rearranged Harry's arm from its compromising position. Harry didn't pull out; he kept his lips gently moving over Draco's neck and shoulder as his cock softened and eventually withdrew. Then he cast a cleaning spell.

"Are you okay?" Draco asked, his voice still carrying a tone of light amusement.

"No. I'm dead."

Laughing, Draco turned in Harry's arms and kissed him softly on the mouth. "Turn over. Let me hold you for a bit."

Harry complied and let his body be manipulated until he was being tightly held in Draco's strong arms. He let his hands roam against the tightly corded muscles in Draco's forearms and hummed gently in contentment.

"Please don't leave me, Draco. I don't know what I'd do if you left."

Draco kissed his shoulder. "Harry, where else... am I supposed to go?"

* * *

_A/N: Well, a lot of you saw the storm clouds on the horizon. The problem with writing gritty, real drama is sometimes in gritty, real life shit happens. Things will brighten up eventually.  
I will make a confession. My Queer as Folk boxset turned up weekend before last and I've spent every single day watching it. This is the girl who maybe watches 2 hours of TV a week. My writing schedule has gone down the pan! I just fell in love with a tall, dark haired guy who has thighs to die for. *le sigh*_


	17. No More Secrets

_A/N: Would you believe me if I told you I have five writing projects on the go right now? Five. Count 'em. And a Queer as Folk addiction that is not waning in the slightest. I was hoping that finishing Season 5 would cure me, but (and I have no idea how this happened) I seem to be watching Season 1 again. From the beginning. It's like a compulsion, a sickness that just forces me to put the next dvd in the player. And fast forward through any scenes that Brian isn't in. Make of that what you will.  
Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that it's possible that my writing schedule will slow down somewhat over the next few weeks. I'll do my best, and it may be that something good comes out of my head and I write quicker than I was expecting, but I'm letting you know now. Just in case._

* * *

Chapter 17- No More Secrets

Harry sent one of Draco's owls to The Burrow well in advance of when he wanted to visit Molly, just to make sure she'd be free. And that no one else would be around.

Of course, at The Burrow there was nearly always someone else around. When Harry arrived it was one of the neighbours returning a glass cooking dish who smiled at Harry and waved as she tottled back up the garden path.

"So, how are you, dear, tea?" Molly said, already putting the kettle on the stove.

"Not bad," Harry said. He collapsed down at the kitchen table and ran his palms over the familiar worn wood. "You know, having Bear made a lot of things make sense to me."

"Hmm? Like what?" Molly asked. She collected two mugs and set the sugar bowl and milk jug on the table.

"Like how... I'm never going to be his dad, you know? I'm not his dad. Remus is. Being dead doesn't change that. But... Me and Draco are probably the closest thing he's going to get to a dad now."

Molly smiled, Harry could see it even though she was facing away from him, fussing with measuring loose tea leaves into a pot.

"And it sort of reminded me about when you and Sirius argued that time and you said that I'm like one of your kids."

She turned and set the pot down on the table and, still smiling, poured tea for them both. Harry added his own milk and sugar and waited for her to talk. Surely it was her turn to talk now?

"Sometimes, Harry, you get to choose your family rather than accepting the one that biology gave you. Your mother's sister and her husband, though I've sworn over and over that I wouldn't speak ill of them, are not your family. All I've ever wanted was for you to feel loved and welcome here."

Harry nodded. Wrapped his hands around his mug and took a deep breath for courage. "Same as how I'm not Bear's dad, but I sort of am; you're not my mum, but you're the best thing and closest thing I've got to one. And your approval means everything to me." He took another deep breath. "I'm sort of in a relationship with Draco. I think I love him."

"Oh." Molly sat back, looking shocked, her mug abandoned as she gently grasped the edge of the table. "Oh."

"I'm sorry to spring it on you like that," Harry said, his apology coming out in a rush. "But this is kind of important, which is why I wanted you to know, and I didn't want you finding out from someone else, not that anyone else knows, I mean..."

"Harry," she said, reaching over to take one of his hands. "I'm okay. I'm just a little surprised."

"Because of Ginny?" he said, wincing.

"No, not because of Ginny." Molly was silent for a few moments while she sipped at her tea, studying him carefully. "I think I've known for about three years. Maybe less, actually."

"That I'm gay?" Harry asked, confused. "I've only known myself for a few months!"

"It's a mum thing," she said with a quick wink. "Your relationship with Hermione more than anything else gave it away, actually."

"She's just a friend," Harry said, confused.

"And she was never going to be anything else to you," Molly said, as if this was the answer to it all. "You never once looked at her as anything other than a friend, the same way you look at Ron and Neville and Luna."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"It's not important. Tell me about Draco."

"He's... oh god, Molly, he's just as screwed up as I am, and I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not. I went with him to his therapist the other day."

"Oh?" she said, "Go on."

"She's a woman called Miranda. She kind of forces you to look at things from an outsider's perspective. We were saying how... we sort of want Bear back."

"That's a natural reaction, darling," Molly said. "He was with you for so long, he became part of your routine. But he deserves some kind of stable family environment. Andromeda can give him that."

"We can too," Harry argued. "It's not a whim, we'd want to keep him."

"Adopt him?"

Harry paused. "That's a big deal."

Molly nodded and hummed in agreement. "It is. But don't you think that little boy deserves a proper family? To know where he belongs?"

Suddenly something else struck Harry. George's offer.

"There's too much to think about," Harry groaned.

"I know, I really do," Molly said. "You're far too young to be going through all this. But I'm not going to tell you not to do it. Gosh, I was only a year or so older than you when Arthur and I had Bill, but that was going back a ways, now."

"Miranda said we should talk to Andromeda."

"I would agree that's a fine suggestion."

"Molly... I know that this is sort of a moot point now, since I'm over eighteen and all that, but if things had been different, would you have adopted me?"

She rose and walked around the table, enveloping him in an almost trademarked hug. "If things were different, we would have taken you when you were a year old and brought you and Ron up as brothers. But Dumbledore had his reasons, of course, so we never had the chance." She pulled back and held him at arm's length, studying him carefully. "You grew up into a fine young man, Harry, and I like to tell myself Arthur and I had a hand in that. You _are_ one of mine. Our hearts were never so small to not be able to love another child."

"Thanks, Molly," he mumbled, cuddling her again briefly.

"Don't be a stranger," she warned him as he prepared to leave. "And bring that Malfoy boy over for lunch on Sunday, do you hear me? I want to meet him."

"I will," Harry agreed, smirking already as he contemplated breaking that news to Draco.

xXx

"Training's cancelled tomorrow," Harry said as he jogged down the steps to the basement.

"What happened?"

"Niko's in St Mungo's with cabbages instead of elbows," Harry said, hoisting himself up to sit on a spare bit of counter space. "What's this?"

"Don't touch!"

"I wasn't going to. What is it?"

"Something that will turn your fingers into cucumbers." But he winked as he said it.

Harry dangled his fingertips over the simmering, clear potion and got his hand smacked away for his trouble. "It's Skele-gro, you heathen. And I would have thought you, of all people, would recognise it."

"I've only taken it once," Harry said, affronted. "And then it wasn't my fault."

"I'm sure," Draco said but rubbed his knee reassuringly. "It's a pain in the ass. You need to brew it for _days_."

"Do you want to go out tomorrow afternoon? We could do something."

"I can't, Harry. I'm busy Saturday afternoons."

Harry paused, thinking. Since he'd been playing for the Blackhawks he'd almost forgotten that Draco was out of the house during that time as well. It was another part of their routine, one he didn't question.

"Can I come too?" Harry asked hesitantly.

Draco looked up from where he was chopping some leaves. Dandelion leaves, Harry decided. Probably dandelion leaves.

"Why are you only asking this now? I've been going out on Saturdays since I moved in here and you've never wanted to come before."

Harry kicked his legs out from the counter, swinging them back and forth while gripping the edge with both hands for balance. He shrugged.

"I want to spend time with you."

"Harry, we're never apart."

"I figure… if you've been doing it for this long, then it's obviously something that matters to you. And if it matters to you then it matters to me."

Draco was silent as he considered things.

"You're going to be mad when you find out," he said eventually.

"Mad at you?"

"No."

"Oh."

He sighed heavily. "I go to the Phoenix Orphanage."

Harry let this information roll around his head for a moment. "The Phoenix Orphanage," he echoed.

"Yes."

A beat of silence. "To do what?"

Draco threw his hands up in exasperation which almost (but not quite) disguised his pink blush of embarrassment. "I hang out with the kids. Play with them, read to them, teach them stuff. Then I do the books, write threatening letters to rich people telling them how much money they need to donate and make cups of bloody coffee. Lots of cups of coffee," he added in a begrudging mutter. Harry felt his lips twitch with amusement but held it back.

"What else?"

"I clean up sick, sometimes. Bake cakes."

"Is that where my cookbook went?" Harry interrupted.

"Maybe." Draco was blushing harder now. "I get them changed for bed and read more stories. I try my hardest to get them put back with families because seriously, Harry, I'm not surprised the Dark Lord turned evil after growing up in an orphanage after seeing those kids."

Most of the details of Voldemort's life had been published by Rita Skeeter (who else?) within months of the War ending. There weren't any secrets any more, ever part of his dark history had been dragged out and drudged over for the masses. It was an even better seller than The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore.

Harry only had one question. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't have a choice, at first," Draco admitted. "I was given obligatory community service for six months as part of my sentence. I just never stopped going."

"That doesn't really answer my question."

"Percy Weasley is sort of in charge of running it."

Harry shook his head. "And he never said anything?"

"To be fair to him, he didn't really have a choice. He wasn't allowed to tell anyone."

"So… can I come?"

Draco's mouth dropped open. "You want to?"

"Yeah. I mean, I like kids."

"They'll see us together."

"Well, I'm not asking you to sit on my lap and stick your tongue in my ear," Harry said, exasperated.

"Ew."

"You know what I mean."

Draco added his leaves to another potion, it seemed to Harry that he was always working on more than one, and started to stir it slowly. He chewed his lip in concentration.

"There's no reason why you can't come."

"Okay. Cool."

"Harry-" Draco caught Harry's wrist. "These kids… they don't know much about my past. They're quite sheltered. They just know me as the guy who turns up once a week to spend time with them."

"I'm not going to out you as a Death Eater."

"I know that. I just need you to understand… why… I might be different."

Harry slid down from the counter and enveloped Draco in a quick hug. "You change more and more every day, Draco. And you keep getting more amazing. Kids are usually the first ones to notice that. And to bring it out in a person."

"Yeah."

"Oh," he said as he prepared to leave Draco to his Skele- gro, "And we're going to the Weasley's for lunch on Sunday."

"I hate you," Draco yelled as Harry jogged up the stairs. But Harry didn't believe him.

xXx

They left it a few more days before sending an owl to Andromeda, asking to visit and to see Bear. She replied with an 'of course', and so, with great trepidation, they headed over after lunch on Wednesday afternoon.

Harry took Draco's hand as they approached the door; Draco slipped his fingers in and around Harry's, squeezing it reassuringly. Harry leaned over after they'd knocked on the door and quickly kissed his cheek, loving the feel of scruff under his lips.

His hand loosened as Andromeda answered the door but Draco gripped it harder. Harry couldn't help the little smile of satisfaction that settled on his lips - Draco clearly wasn't ashamed of their relationship either.

"Hi, come in," Andromeda greeted them. They exchanged hugs but Harry felt almost sick in his stomach. He wanted Bear. "He's in the kitchen," she said, laughing. "Go on and get him."

Draco had a slightly guilty expression, clearly wondering if they were being too obvious. But Andromeda didn't seem to mind, she'd laughed, and they really were desperate to see him again...

Bear was sat in his high chair, banging toys against the plastic tray with the destroyed remains of a biscuit smushed into his blocks. As soon as he caught sight of Harry and Draco he squealed with delight. They moved into synchronised motion; Harry grabbed a cloth and wiped the baby's mouth as Draco hoisted him out of the seat.

"Hey, sweetheart," Draco cooed, kissing Bear's forehead. Harry dumped the cloth in the sink and wrapped his arms around Draco, completing the circle with Bear securely held between them.

The baby, for his part, seemed thrilled to see his former carers again. He turned from Harry to Draco and back again, patting his hands against one face then the other. Harry caught little fingers in a quick kiss and was rewarded with the same little fingers smearing biscuit and god-knows what else over his glasses.

Draco laughed as Harry cleaned them with a quick spell and flicked Draco's ear.

"La la la la ma rah dad da da da..." Bear told them.

"He's calling me Dada," Draco said, sticking his tongue out at Harry.

"No way," Harry argued, shifting the baby into his own arms. "Say Harry, Bear. Ha- ha- Harry."

"Rah ma la la la."

"Close enough," Harry said.

He took a moment to bury his face into soft blue hair and breathe deeply. The smell of his baby. Their baby. The conversation with Andromeda was going to be really bloody hard.

"He should go down for a nap in a bit," Andromeda said from the kitchen doorway. She was watching them with a smile Harry didn't really know how to read.

"I'll do it," Draco and Harry said at the same time. Harry caught Draco's eye and laughed.

"Fight you for him," Harry said.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "But Harry," he said innocently. "Then you'd lose."

Andromeda laughed. "Go on, the pair of you. The nursery is the first door at the top of the stairs."

They had a little, playful tug of war to see who got to carry Bear. Draco won.

As Draco set Bear down in his crib, Harry wrapped his arms around the slender waist and pulled it back to his chest. Draco gripped Harry's forearms as the baby settled down in the crib. They'd spent too many nights watching Bear fall asleep, just like this.

"Come on," Draco whispered eventually.

Andromeda met them in the same living room Harry had been delivered to by Hagrid when they'd escaped the Death Eaters... shit... over a year and a half before. She had a tea tray set out with mugs and a pot and they sat nervously on the edge of the sofa.

"We wanted to talk to you about Bear," Harry said when they'd settled down and done the whole 'how are you feeling' exchange. Andromeda was fine, if a little tired.

She raised an eyebrow and nodded.

"If there's any possibility of him coming back with us," Draco said in a rush.

Silence.

"I'm not opposed to you taking him," Andromeda said after a few moments consideration. "Lord knows, he's better off with two young, healthy parents than this old bat."

"You're not an old bat," Draco said, amused.

"I am," she said, with a shrug and a wry smile. "But I can't say I don't have concerns."

"Okay," Harry said.

She played with her mug, rolling it between the palms of her hands. "You're both very young, and have careers ahead of you, I'm sure. Have you thought about how to balance a job and a toddler? What happens if you split up? How will you deal with the media when they catch wind of the story? Because, mark my words, boys, Rita Skeeter will find out eventually."

"I-" Draco started, but Andromeda cut him off with a raised eyebrow that made her look uncannily like her sister. He fell silent.

"How will you deal with him being teased at school for having two dads and no mum? Will you be 'Daddy' to him, or will you be Harry and Draco? How much are you prepared to tell him about Remus and 'Dora? How about brothers and sisters? Have you thought about having children of your own? I'm not scared to tell you, Draco, your mother will want you to produce a grandchild for her.

"I'm not saying you should have answers to all of this right now," she said, obviously taking in their twin shocked expressions. "Or even if you have answers at all. I just need you to know that this all needs to be considered and thought over and argued over before you can seriously make the decision to take him back."

"Are you sure you're happy for us to do it?" Harry said eventually.

Andromeda sighed. "Do you know how old I am, Harry?"

"Um, no," he said, embarrassed.

"I'm nearly fifty. I don't look it, I know," she winked, "but too old to be a mother again. I was thrilled to be made a grandmother, truly I was, but I can't say it's easy going back to having a baby. Please don't get me wrong, I love having him, I wouldn't give him up for the world, but he reminds me very much of having a baby Metamorphmagus daughter who isn't with us any more. And he loves you two. Just… unconditionally, he loves you. It's very easy to see that."

"We want to be his parents," Draco said confidently.

"You know that same sex couples aren't allowed to adopt."

"What?" Harry exclaimed.

"How do you know all this?" Draco added.

"I used to work for the Ministry before I took early retirement at the onset of the War. I didn't want to go to work every day and not know which of my colleagues I could trust. Again," she added wryly. "I worked in the department for children's protection."

"So, do you know Madame O'Connell?"

"Lenore?" Andromeda asked, surprised. "Why yes, of course. We were colleagues."

"She's who's in charge of Bear's custody."

"Oh. Well, that might help us in the future," she said. "I want the same as you two when it comes to Teddy - for him to be happy and healthy and loved. I'm not going to send him home with you today because you need time to really think about it."

"We will," Draco said seriously.

"Thank you," Harry added.

"Don't thank me yet," she said, laughing wryly. "I'm in the unfortunate position of knowing exactly what you're going to be up against if we decide for him to go back to you. It's not going to be pretty. You really have to be sure that you're in this a hundred percent."

They were left with that sombre warning hanging over them. Bear woke up while they were still mid-conversation and Harry rushed off to comfort him. Andromeda let them hang out for a few hours, playing with Bear with the promise that they could take him for an afternoon in the week some time. They also learned that Molly had been in contact with Andromeda and wanted to see more of Bear too. He simply had too much family who loved him.

When they finally left it was just before five; Harry took them beyond the protective wards at the gate and took hold of Draco's hands.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

"Implicitly."

"Hold on."

He took Draco by Side- Along Apparition to Diagon Alley, just outside Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

"I know where this is, you could have just told me," Draco said, laughing.

Harry shrugged. "I didn't know if you would come with me."

Draco smiled but dropped Harry's hands. "Are we going to go in?"

People were already starting to stare at them. Harry thought they were probably trying to work out if that really was Draco Malfoy; the tall, slim, handsome blond man dressed in stylish Muggle jeans and a beautifully tailored wool coat. He knew Draco wouldn't see it that way. He'd just see the staring.

He was desperate to slip his hand in Draco's as they ducked in out of the rain, but refrained, for both their sake's.

Due to the late hour things were starting to wind down in the shop. Mary- Anne was behind the counter and although a few people meandered through the aisles, it was pretty quiet.

"Office, guys," Mary- Anne called as she spotted them, gesturing to go back to the office.

"How do you know we're not here to see you?" Harry laughed.

"Get back there and stop messing up my shop," she told them, winking as they passed.

When they were out of the public area of the shop Harry reached for Draco's hand again. Neither mentioned it, but Draco squeezed Harry's fingers quickly.

"Hey! How are my favourite homosexuals?" George asked as they approached the office door.

"Offended," Draco muttered.

"I wanted to invite you and Angelina over for dinner," Harry said. Draco leaned against the door and didn't flinch when Harry stuck his hand into the back pocket of Draco's jeans.

"Sure," George said. "When?"

"Friday night?" Harry suggested.

"Sounds good. I'll bring wine. And don't think I can't see you groping your boyfriend's ass."

Harry just laughed as Draco blushed. "See you on Friday, George," Draco said in his crisp, formal voice and grabbed onto Harry to take them back to the house. "You little shit," he said as they landed in the living room.

"What?" Harry asked innocently.

Draco just shook his head. "You're a nightmare."

After removing his coat and tossing it over the back of the sofa, Harry carefully removed his wand from his pocket. And cast a stinging hex at Draco.

"Shit!" Draco exclaimed as Harry ducked out of the room, giggling madly. "Right, Potter," Draco muttered, stripping off his coat too, "It's on."

What Harry didn't realise was that Draco and Blaise had practically grown up playing these childish cat and mouse games. Draco knew stealth. And he knew a whole host of non-lethal but rather uncomfortable hexes and jinxes.

It didn't take long for him to corner Harry in the library (the other man's giggles revealing his location) and cast a quick _Auguamenti_ at the spot just over Harry's head. Drenching him with cold water was more than slightly satisfying.

Especially when Harry screamed like a girl.

"You maniac!" Harry yelled. Draco smirked as Harry shook off water like a wet dog. "I'm freezing. Not gonna play with you any more."

"Oh, poor Potter," Draco said with a smirk, echoing the taunts of their school years.

"I'm going for a shower," Harry said. And shoved Draco in the chest as he passed.

"Do you need someone to scrub your back?" Draco asked, his eyes wide and innocent.

"Oh, I wouldn't say no," Harry said. "You owe me." He started to pull his wet robes off, shivering from the cold and fumbling with numb fingers. Draco soon stepped in to help, attaching his lips to the corner of Harry's jaw as he blindly stripped the robes off goosepimpled skin and dropped them on the floor.

Draco was dragged through to the bathroom where steam soon billowed through the cold, damp air and two naked bodies fought the prickly burn of too hot water where impatience won out against the chill.

The back scrubbing was quickly forgotten as Draco desperately pushed his naked, growing arousal against Harry as their lips met in frenzied, needy kisses; their fingers providing a frozen chill against heating skin which made a whole new thrill.

_Too much,_ Harry's over stimulated brain protested. Too much, too many different sensations as hands skimmed water slick skin and teeth scraped along ears, jaws, necks, collarbones, shoulders... the little gasps and moans from Draco's throat as he found a good spot, their bodies in constant motion as they tried for more and found it. Over and over again.

"Do you want..." Harry asked with his neck thrown back, exposing the tight cords of muscle as Draco's lips worked up and down between clavicle and earlobe.

"Yes, yes, want it all," Draco mumbled.

Harry laughed breathlessly. Forcing himself to straighten, he pushed all ten fingers through Draco's hair which had turned a golden wheat blonde under the water. Angelic. Frowning in concentration, he studied Draco's face, committing every beautiful, well bred line to memory.

Then he smiled.

"Can you Summon your lubricant from here?" Harry said, leaning in to kiss the corner of Draco's mouth.

"Pfft. I have some in here."

Draco leaned over, making Harry swallow thickly as his erection twitched, and retrieved another (just as empty, Harry was to discover) tin.

"Why do you-"

"Shower wanking is one of my favourite pastimes," Draco said without a hint of shame.

Harry snorted. "Turn around, you filthy bastard."

Draco complied, sticking his ass out further than was necessary and wiggling it seductively. He braced his arms on the shower wall and said "That's rich, coming from the man who's about to stick his fingers up my bum."

"Says he, who likes it," Harry said, smiling against Draco's shoulder as he reached between smooth, round cheeks to find Draco's hole.

"I do," Draco admitted. "Especially with someone who learns quickly and pays attention and takes initiative... Damn, why didn't I find a Gryffindor sooner?"

Laughing, Harry slid a second finger in besides the first. "Who else would you have gone for, hmm? Not Ron or Neville, I'm sure."

"Don't mention Longbottom right now, I'm begging you," Draco groaned.

"Seamus then? I could see the appeal. He has a nice accent."

"I thought you were going to tell me he had a big cock for a moment then."

Harry choked on a laugh. "How the hell would I know that?"

"Didn't you ever check it out in the showers after Quidditch?"

"No!"

"Shame."

"Did you?" Harry asked, curious now as he worked his fingers in measured thrusts, secretly amazed at Draco's composure under this erotic preparation.

"Look at other boy's cocks in the shower?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah. All the time. Fuck, that feels good." Harry smiled to himself, pleased that his efforts were being appreciated. "I'm not sure if you're aware of this, Harry, but I'm _gay._"

Harry giggled. "Really? I can't say I'd noticed."

"Are you going to make me beg for another finger?"

The third digit met little resistance. "Nope."

"Oh god."

"Are you going to beg for my cock?" Harry asked in a low voice, immediately embarrassed by this unusually forward approach, but Draco groaned at his words and pushed his ass back further.

"I was hoping you wouldn't make me."

Pulling out his fingers (which were starting to cramp anyway), Harry quickly rubbed the last of the lube over his cock and pressed it against Draco's hole. The temptation was there to check if this was okay, like he did every time, but Draco seemed to like his increased assertiveness. So when he was lined up, Harry pushed forward until he felt the round muscle and tight heat envelop the head of his cock.

"Fuck! Draco," he cried, grabbing Draco's hips hard enough to leave little thumbprint bruises.

Draco's head dropped forward to press against the cool tiled wall, his hand already fisting at his cock.

"Fuck me, Harry," he whimpered.

He wasn't exactly famed for his restraint and Harry let his hips slam into Draco, harder than he'd ever dared before, causing his partner to cry out with unrestrained pleasure. The pace he set was blistering, ball aching and cramp inducing; his thighs screamed with pain at being forced to work so hard, pumping his hips back and forth at just the right angle to nudge at Draco's sweet spot, fucking determined to do this right.

Harry was vaguely aware of his own voice chanting '_yes'_ over and over, possibly in tandem with his strokes but probably not, he never was the greatest musician. This was a new rhythm, though, one he hadn't fully explored before.

"More, Harry, more," Draco murmured.

The hot water still pounded on his back and Harry arched under it, thrilled at the new sensations of sex while standing up, sex in this position, sex in general. The naughtiness of it. The fact that it was Draco.

"Draco."

Draco.

His orgasm was like a punch to the stomach, hitting him out of nowhere and dragging his come out of his balls with a ferocity he'd come to appreciate while having sex with Draco. It was mean and fast and breath- stealingly wonderful and he bent over to rest his head between Draco's shoulders as his hips rode it out, then slid to the floor in a boneless heap.

Draco slid into his lap.

"You came," Harry murmured as his arms found a way to hold Draco close.

He chuckled. "Mm. About the same time you did."

"Sorry I missed it."

Draco laughed loudly then. "I don't mind."

Harry reached for Draco's cheek, turning his face for intimate consideration. Grey eyes that he'd once considered cold, steely, warmed under his gaze, understanding that Harry needed to be this close to see him. To really see him.

Their last kiss before climbing out of the shower was feather light, whispered kisses over swollen lips, a gentle dart of one tongue against another. Harry was starting to understand this language of kissing. That one meant '_until later'_.

* * *

_A/N: You know, every time someone leaves a review, Gale Harold makes his O face. True Fact._


	18. An Open Letter to the Wizarding World

_A/N: Happy Bank Holiday Monday! I like this chapter. Have a feeling you might too._

* * *

Chapter 18- An Open Letter to the Wizarding World

Later, they were still naked. Dry, now, with a half eaten plate of sandwiches on the bedside table and warming charms being recast over and over to keep the chill out. They laid on top of the sheets, gently skimming hands over each other's smooth skin, feet tangled together, not being out of the other's embrace even for a moment.

"Are we doing it for the right reason, do you think?" Draco asked. They had been talking about Bear, mentally going through Andromeda's list of questions.

Harry reached his hand up to curl around the back of Draco's neck and into the soft hair that had curled slightly as it dried.

"I don't know," he admitted.

"Is it in Bear's best interests to be with us?"

"What do you think?"

Draco laughed and leaned in to quickly kiss Harry's nose. "You're stealing my trick. Answering questions with questions."

"So... what do you think?" Harry teased.

"I think. Hmm. I think that we could give him a great life. But there will be a hell of a lot of attention on all three of us if we do it."

"Negative attention?"

"Maybe."

"Oh, bollocks," Harry laughed. "They'll come after us with pitchforks."

Groaning, Draco tucked his head under Harry's chin. "Okay. Next thing. Your career."

It was Harry's turn to groan. Even as he wrapped his arms around Draco's body, he hated the other man for bringing this topic up. He had expected the 'next thing' to be their relationship.

"I don't have a clue what I'm going to do with my life, Draco," Harry said. "Can't I just be a rich recluse?"

Draco giggled. "Nope. You're far too pretty to be hidden away."

"How about your society wife?"

Rolling onto his back, Draco crossed his arms across his chest as he laughed. "I've got a mental picture of you in a sequined ball gown..."

"Is it turning you on?" Harry said with his tongue firmly lodged in his cheek. He rolled over, trapping Draco underneath him with his knees either side of Draco's thighs. "Are you one of those boys who likes the look of a man in a dress?"

Draco laughed harder. Harry acted offended.

"With this jawbone?" Draco asked through his giggles, rubbing his fingers over Harry's face. "No one could mistake you for a woman."

Harry leaned down and kissed the naked man beneath him slowly, thoroughly, until Draco definitely wasn't laughing any more.

"What about us, Draco?

"If we do this... she was right, you know. We can't just send him back if we break up."

They rolled back onto their sides, facing each other once again. There was an unspoken need between the two to be on equal footing for this part of the conversation.

Draco pillowed one hand under his cheek. "You don't even call me your boyfriend, Harry."

"Of course you're my boyfriend. You're a lot more than that."

"I'm not particularly looking forward to telling the world about us, but I think we should," Draco said. "We're not doing anything wrong. We shouldn't have to hide."

"I'm not hiding, Draco," Harry said softly. "I've just sort of basked in this for the past six months. My life was going nowhere until you came along."

"Yeah. Mine was the same. I was just rattling around in that big old house..."

"It feels like we've been together forever. And also like our relationship is still so new."

"Will you promise me something?" Draco asked.

"It depends," Harry said with a smirk.

"Really think about the career thing for me? Then we can go back to Andromeda and tell her exactly how we plan to deal with balancing our lives and jobs and childcare and being parents."

"Okay. I'll think about it. Can I ask you for something?"

"It depends," Draco echoed, leaning in to murmur the words against Harry's mouth.

Harry closed his eyes and sank into the kiss. "I really, really want you to make love to me."

Draco faltered but didn't stop kissing. He didn't say no... but he didn't say yes, either. "I will, Harry, of course I will. But I can't understand why you want this so much. Aren't you happy with the sex we're having at the moment?"

"Sex with you is incredible," Harry said, running the palms of his hands down Draco's back. "But we're equals in this relationship. That's important to me. So I want us to be equals in bed, too."

"It's going to hurt," Draco warned him. "I'll do my best not to hurt you, but it's probably still going to hurt."

"But it feels good eventually though? Otherwise why would anyone do it?"

Draco smiled and pulled Harry closer to his body. "Yeah, it feels good, baby. Once you get used to it."

"Then I want it," he said decisively. "And I want it to be you."

It was possibly a new spot that Draco found to kiss, then, the soft spot between tear duct and eyebrow.

"Okay."

xXx

_An Open Letter to the Wizarding World, from Harry James Potter:_

_It's been almost a year, not that anyone needs reminding. For a long time people have granted me my privacy and have left me alone after repeated assurances that it's what I really want. In the past eight months I haven't just been locked away ignoring the rest of the world. I seem to have found myself a family. _

_I am all too aware that people are not likely to approve of my choice of partner. That was the first lesson I had to learn. But some people are worth fighting for. _

_We have decided, as a family, that we're not going to hide any more. That doesn't mean I'm prepared to give interviews or photo calls or whatever other stupid requests come through, and, unfortunately, I'm not going to be able to stop people from writing or saying whatever they like. _

_I just wanted you to know, before anyone decides they have the right to put words in my mouth, that I'm happy. For the first time in my life I've got what everyone else takes for granted. So please. Please, don't try and take this away from me. _

_Harry._

xXx

A little origami crane greeted Harry when he returned home from grocery shopping. It was slightly more agitated than other cranes that had delivered messages in the past and Harry unwittingly crumpled it when he caught it in his hand.

_There are clothes set out on your bed.  
Be ready to leave at 7.  
~ Draco xx_

The kisses were scrawled almost as an afterthought and Harry smiled at them, tucking the paper away in his pocket. He already knew he'd save it. There was time to unpack all the groceries before he went for a shower, taking longer than usual to scrub his skin clean.

The suit that had been set out for him was extraordinary. If there was one man in the world that was going to teach him that menswear style was just as fabulous as women's, it was going to be Draco Malfoy.

At first glance, Harry thought the suit was black, but on closer inspection it was actually dark, dark blue. The jacket buttoned low over his stomach and the stiff, starched white shirt didn't have a regular folding collar, instead it stood upright around his throat. And he had no idea how to tie the silver-grey tie.

"Draco!" he called into the hall. "I don't know how to do this!"

Draco appeared in Harry's (rarely used) bedroom with a crack. He was dressed in the black on black style that he'd adopted after the war, but somehow looked more casual, less uptight than when they'd encountered each other in those last, dark months. Maybe it was something that came from within. There was so much love in Draco's heart now that animosity had no way of coming through.

He looked amused, pushing blonde hair out of his eyes as he picked the tie up off the bed.

"Come here," he told Harry who stepped up close to him. Draco deftly folded the silky fabric around Harry's throat, tucking it up tight in an elegant knot. "There you go." He kissed Harry on his nose. "You look amazing."

"So do you."

"Don't I always?"

Harry laughed and smoothed hair back from Draco's face. "You do."

He had no idea what Draco was planning, where they were going but he knew he trusted Draco absolutely. It was also incredibly important that he kissed those soft lips now.

Draco chuckled softly as Harry leaned in with his hands gently grasping Draco's arms. He tilted his head just so, their heads fitting together at a now familiar angle. The kiss was gentle, neither man being able to fall too deeply into the passion of the moment due to the silly grins both were sporting.

"Are you ready?" Harry asked as they broke apart.

Draco studied him for a moment and Harry felt his hair rearrange itself on his head until it fell into a new position. "Now I am," he said, smirking.

"You haven't asked where we're going," Draco continued as Harry grasped his hand, readying himself for Disapparition.

Harry shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I'm going there with you."

xXx

Harry's first thought was to be surprised that Draco had arranged for them to go to a Muggle restaurant for the evening. But that quickly dissipated. Draco clearly didn't want any undue attention, but unfortunately he'd overlooked the fact that even in the Muggle world, two dashingly handsome men out to dinner together would attract attention anyway.

In a small, tucked away corner of the ornate door to the restaurant was a small rainbow flag.

"It's a symbol in the Muggle world, that the restaurant welcomes gay couples," Draco explained as the doorman held it open for them. Harry nodded and reached for Draco's hand. "Reservation in the name of Malfoy," Draco said to the hostess who nodded and lead them through the dining room.

Harry was surprised to see a mix of couples dining in the opulent room; people seemingly of all ages, races and sexualities. The hostess didn't bat an eyelid as Draco pulled out a chair for his companion and ordered a bottle of red wine and a jug of water for the table.

"I have to ask... is there some anniversary or something I've forgotten?" Harry asked.

Draco laughed. "No. I just wanted to take you out. And... since I read the _Prophet _yesterday..."

"Ah," Harry said knowingly. "That. Are you mad?"

"No, not at all," Draco said.

A waitress arrived with a bottle of wine and they went through the rigmarole of approving the label and the first sip before the rich scarlet liquid was poured into two large bowled glasses. She handed them both a menu then disappeared as smoothly and silently as she'd arrived.

"I meant to tell you," Harry said, picking up their conversation from where he'd left off, "but I was in sort of a temper when I wrote it and then I sent it and then you came home with that big bowl of strawberries..."

He didn't need to say any more. With the 'female' in their relationship being notably absent, little gifts of chocolates or flowers weren't really appreciated. Good strawberries from Kent, however, were. As were nice bottles of cider from farms in Somerset and anything from Honeydukes. That particular bowl of strawberries had been shared, then strawberry flavoured blowjobs traded in Draco's favourite armchair.

"Sweetheart," Draco interrupted Harry's rant. "It's fine. I promise. I was the one who said I didn't want us to hide any more. Which is why we're out celebrating."

Harry nodded, chagrined, and turned to the menu. "Have you been here before? It all looks good."

"It's one of my favourite restaurants," Draco admitted. "I'd offer to order for us both if I didn't think you'd slap me silly."

"No, go for it," Harry said, folding his menu. "I trust you."

They talked through the starter, played footsie through the main course and by the time they'd agreed to share something disgustingly chocolaty for dessert they were both feeling the effects of the delicious Cabernet and were being more than slightly suggestive in their sweet talking.

Draco insisted on taking care of the bill, even though Harry protested, and lead him out of the restaurant into the cool night air. Without any hint of self- consciousness, Harry slipped his hand into Draco's.

"Can we walk for a bit before we go home?" Harry asked.

"Of course. Where do you want to go?"

Harry shrugged. "Let's just see where the night takes us."

After casting a few surreptitious warming charms they headed back through the darkened London streets in the vague direction of Grimmauld Place. Although cold, the night was clear enough for them to see the stars.

"Look," Draco said, turning Harry around so he could wrap his arms around Harry's chest. "Draco."

Harry smiled and tilted his head back to kiss Draco's jaw. "I bet you've been able to pick that one out since before you could walk."

"Pretty much," Draco agreed. "My mother used to tell me stories about the dragon in the sky."

Turning in the warm embrace, Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's neck and studied the other man at close distance.

"Why did you bring me out tonight?" he asked.

"Damn," Draco said with a smile. "You caught me. I wanted to soften you up."

"What for?"

Draco kissed his nose, his cheek, chin, then lips, incredibly softly. "Can I take you home with me?"

Harry tightened his grip, preparing to Apparate and nodded.

To his credit, Draco's skills of Apparition were such that Harry barely felt it. They landed in Draco's room and while Harry was still righting himself, Draco wandlessly lit several candles.

"Tonight?" Harry asked, having now cottoned on to the idea.

"Yes. If you want to."

"Come here."

With deft, sure fingers Harry began to gently remove Draco's tie, setting it over the back of the chair before starting on the buttons of the shirt. At the same time Draco started at the bottom of Harry's shirt, pulling it out of his trousers and helping him out of his jacket.

There didn't seem to be any sense of urgency in their actions; they took their time to carefully remove the expensive suits and discard them, lavish attention on the exposed skin before moving on.

Harry went to toe off his shoes and stopped himself at Draco's exaggerated wince.

"What?" he asked, amused.

"They're hand made Italian calf leather dress shoes."

"And surprisingly comfortable."

Draco rolled his eyes and dropped to his knees. With painstaking care he undid the laces and let Harry balance with a hand on his shoulder as he removed each shoe in turn. Then, while he was down there, pulled his own off.

Finally only their underwear remained and Harry pulled Draco to his feet and attacked his mouth with hungry kisses. Their skin was warm, bare chest to bare chest as Draco slid his hands around to press his palms flat to Harry's back, then down to grope at his ass.

Harry laughed into the kiss as he ran his arms from Draco's shoulders to wrists, up and down in a tender caress. They were both hard, straining up against their underwear and towards each other, but somehow that wasn't so important. Their kisses were deep, searching, lips stretching wide to accept probing tongues and wet licks.

With a hand wrapped around the back of Harry's neck, Draco angled the kisses, taking charge in a way he hadn't done before. This was his night to be in charge.

"On the bed," Draco said in a low voice.

Harry bit his bottom lip coyly and kicked his underwear off, crawling on to the bed on his hands and knees and looking back at Draco over his shoulder with wide, vividly green eyes.

Draco laughed softly, warmly. "What on earth have I done to you."

"Terrible things," Harry said with mock seriousness. "Care to do more?"

"If they could see me now," Draco said, cocking his head to one side. "You're amazing, you know that?"

It was Harry's cue to laugh softly and drop his head back down. Draco climbed onto the bed behind him, looping an arm around his waist and pressing their bodies flush together.

"Yes," Harry murmured.

"No."

"No?"

"Not like this," Draco qualified. With hidden strength he flipped Harry over so he was lying on his back. Looking up into Draco's eyes.

"Like this?" Harry asked.

"Mhmm."

"Oh."

Draco leaned over for another kiss, softer this time. Then licked Harry's neck, his collarbone... gently bit a nipple, ran his tongue down the natural line that bisected Harry's torso. Sucked the head of a sticky, leaking cock, palmed the soft balls between fuzzy thighs.

"Ohhh..."

The lubricant was slicked where it was needed, pressed deep inside, a spine arched back against the first burst of pain that accompanied the first thrilling breach of penetration. Fingers wrapped around strong biceps, curling against pale skin and lean muscle, holding on tightly.

Pale blonde hair fell down from a sweaty forehead, gasps travelled from mouth to mouth on barely there kisses and one man learned the feel of another. A gentle hand encouraged knees to meet shoulders and elbows crooked in the crease to keep them there. The wicked, wet slap of skin on skin was almost drowned out by the soft cries and guttural grunts, two people making music. Making love.

Intensity flowed from each gentle touch, each wet, sloppy kiss, from the moments when they opened their eyes just to watch the changing expressions of lust worn by their lover.

"You taste like chocolate," Harry whispered.

Draco's eyes crinkled with laughter. "So do you, baby."

"Close," Harry gasped. His eyes screwed shut as his back arched and the muscles in his neck contracted, pushing his head back into the bed.

Harry thought he'd remember the last little gasp from Draco's throat before he came for the rest of his life. It was like a breath had gotten caught there, like his vocal chords had made an 'oh' sound that was never released from his lips, the crashing power of his orgasm meaning that one burst of sound would never be heard.

It was enough to push Harry over the edge too.

"I love you," someone said first.

"I love you," the other said at nearly the same time.

Minutes later, when they were cleaned up and tangled in each other's embrace, they said it again.

"I love you."

xXx

He woke to the subtle shifting of the mattress next to him and the absence of a warm body curled around his back. Waking slowly as the morning settled around him, dispelling the magic of the night before, Harry allowed himself the time to stretch, long and leisurely, feeling the aches in new places and a little spike of something in his belly.

Yawning, he swung his legs off the bed and groped around on the floor for his underwear, which he pulled on with last night's shirt buttoned loosely over his chest. Then he went in search of Draco. The smell of coffee brewing lead the way.

"Morning," Harry said, slipping his arms around Draco's slim waist. The other man was staring out of the kitchen window into the dim courtyard beyond.

Draco stiffened under his touch. "Don't."

"Don't what? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just - don't."

Harry pulled back. Draco was obviously in one of his strops and worth leaving alone to sort out himself out in his own time. Harry kissed him on a bare shoulder.

"Okay. Love you."

"You can stop that, too," Draco bit out.

"Stop what?" Harry exclaimed.

"Guys like you don't love guys like me, Harry," Draco said, spinning around. "Guys like you _fuck_ guys like me. Then you go back and find a nice girl to love and have three kids and be an amazing father and all round nice guy. And you can think back fondly on that guy you _fucked_ back in the day when you had that little homosexual experiment."

"You're not an experiment to me, Draco," Harry said carefully. "And there is no guys like you, guys like me. We're just two people, Draco, that's it."

"You're so fucking naive! You are Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World, Order of Merlin, First Class, the Boy Who Lived... I'm Draco Malfoy. Death Eater who escaped Azkaban. We can't be together. We just can't."

"Because of what other people might think? Since when does that matter?" Harry demanded.

"It's all that has ever mattered!" Draco cried. "The world is a terrible place! The only thing that matters is what they see."

"I'd bet the contents of my entire vault at Gringotts that that's your father speaking, not you," Harry said in a low voice.

Draco said nothing and stalked from the room.

Harry huffed, ran his fingers through his hair aggressively, and followed him.

"Look, Draco," he said, grabbing the other man's shoulder and pulling him around. Then jabbed a finger in his chest for good measure. "I am not going to let you... _cheapen_ what happened between us last night. How fucking dare you call it just a fuck. You made _love_ to me, you miserable motherfucker, and I am not going to let you ruin things just because you're fucking scared."

"Interesting use of the word 'fuck'," Draco said sarcastically, pushing away the still- jabbing finger. "What you seem to have forgotten, Potter, is that I, unlike you, have been here before. I have been the one thinking that someone had _made love_ to me. And you know what? They didn't. Cock in ass is not love. It's sex. Wake the fuck up."

"So everything between us, everything that we've gone through together was just for sex? Bullshit, Draco, I call bullshit."

"What we went through was due to court order or necessity if I wanted access to my cousin. What happened between us was never supposed to happen."

"You were never supposed to fall in love?" Harry said mockingly.

"Malfoy's don't fall in love," Draco said, shaking his head. "My... _sincerest_ apologies if I lead you to believe otherwise. Excuse me."

"You know what, Malfoy?" Harry spat, "No, I will not excuse you. You can try to push me away, hell, you can even shove me away if you want. But there is no way, no fucking way, Draco, I am going back to what my life was like before you. I will not give you up. So fucking... man up or something. Deal with the fact that you love me, because I fucking love you too!"

He was screaming by the time his little rant was over and Draco slumped, visibly wounded by Harry's completely uncharacteristic screaming. Harry shook his arms out and huffed the breath out of his lungs. The last time he'd done that was - well. A long time ago.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered. "I don't usually yell at my friends. Any more."

"You don't understand," Draco said. Harry could hear the desperation and half a sob in his words. "You'll leave me, eventually, you'll leave me. And I don't know what will happen when you do."

"Why would I leave you?"

"Because this will never work."

"Why?" Harry cried, throwing his hands up. "It's worked so far, hasn't it?"

"But we're arguing!"

"Because you're being a prize wanker!" Harry screamed.

"Okay, okay," Draco sighed. "Okay."

"You're just going to have to trust me," Harry said, forcing calmness to emanate out of every syllable.

"Trust you."

"Yes. Trust me. That's what people do when they're in a relationship. They trust each other. I can't promise you this is going to work out. I can't promise you forever, Draco, and I'm not going to insult your intelligence by making promises I can't keep. But we can do this. We _can_ do this if we both want it."

"I want it," Draco whispered. "You make me want things I never thought I could have."

"Good. So do I," Harry said. "Come here you little shit."

Draco folded himself into Harry's arm, burying his face in Harry's neck and laying his lips on the nearest patch of scratchy, stubbled skin.

"I'm sorry."

"Well, there's a memory to save. I'm going to watch that over and over again. Draco Malfoy apologised."

"Don't get any ideas," Draco huffed. "I have no intention of making a habit of it."

xXx

"Harry," Niko pulled the Blackhawks Seeker to one side before Harry's fourth game on the team. It was actually their third week in this formation having played one mid-week friendly the week before, and naturally, they'd won every game.

"I've been asked by some members of the team to have a quiet word," Niko said once they were out of earshot from their teammates.

Harry's heart sank. "Oh?"

"Mate, we're a Saturday league team. We don't get to play very often. It's just that... since you came along, none of us have been part of a match that lasted more than half an hour."

"No... last week was thirty four minutes, wasn't it?"

Niko rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Yeah. An average match for us goes on at least an hour. Look, I don't wanna rock the boat or anything, because truth is, we like winning. But if you could maybe give the other Seeker a bit of a runaround? Keep him on his toes for a little while? Let the rest of us get a proper game in and I'll give you a nod when Jen starts to get tired."

Harry laughed as he nodded. "Yeah, I can do that."

Niko patted him on the back. "Good lad. Knew you'd understand. Although, I'll doubt you'll be with us much longer anyway."

"What?" Harry demanded, his heart sinking again.

"You really don't get it, do you," Niko shook his head. "We've had scouts for teams from all over the bloody country here for the past two games, and I'll wager it's the same out there again today. You're causing quite the stir in the world of Quidditch, Mr Potter. Your name is being whispered among many a club."

"Nah," Harry shook his head. "This is all just a bit of fun for me."

"You should think about it," Niko said. "The rest of us are shitting our pants because these guys are out there watching us."

"I just want my godson back. Playing Quidditch full time isn't going to help that cause."

"How's that going?" Niko asked as they headed back to the changing rooms.

Harry shrugged. "It's been nearly three weeks now and it's just about killing me and Draco. We want him home."

"He's with his grandmother, right?"

"Yeah.

"Alright, Harry?" Jenny Johnson greeted him enthusiastically. "Come on boys, let's get this show on the road!"

Their opponents this week were a fellow London team, a 'local derby' as Niko had put it in their pre- game talk and he was enthusiastic to mark this as a turning point in the fortunes of the oft- ridiculed Blackhawk team.

It was a snappy match with goals scored as quickly as they were saved, plenty of good natured insults traded back and forth. Every time Harry caught sight of the snitch he had to fight his instincts to dive for it, instead leading the other Seeker off in a merry dance of feints, swoops and dives from one end of the pitch to the other.

After nearly an hour of play, when players on both teams had worked up a decent sweat, Niko gave Harry the nod and he pulled his Firebolt into a breathtaking dive to scoop up the snitch and secure a fourth consecutive Blackhawks win.

He took a long, hot, very well deserved shower and dressed for the pub where most of his teammates had already headed.

"Hey, Harry," Frankie (one of the Beaters) called as he got ready to Disapparate. "There's a couple of people asking for you out there."

"Autograph hunters?" Harry asked with a wince.

Frankie laughed uproariously. "Nah, mate, I got rid of those for you. You wanna meet these guys, trust me."

He winked and Disapparated, leaving Harry to face the unknown on his own. _Not for the first time,_ he thought to himself wryly.

The two people were about as far from Death Eaters as Harry could have imagined. One was a very young, very attractive man who he vaguely recognised from one of Draco's Quidditch magazines. The other was a middle aged witch who introduced herself as Head of the Quidditch New Talent Association.

"Mr Potter," she said, firmly grasping his hand and smiling widely. "It's so nice to finally meet you."


	19. Wow

_A/N: This is a short(er) chapter, but vitally important, plot-wise.  
People are leaving me some really lovely reviews; thank you, I love reading your comments. Sorry I don't reply to more. I'm crap - that's the only excuse I have. And it's a poor one at that. This new FF layout is funny, isn't it? _

* * *

Chapter 19- Wow

"So, they just offered you a place on a team? Just like that?" Draco asked incredulously.

"Well, no, not quite," Harry admitted. The two people had approached him with a clear and open offer: the Quidditch league wants you. "I'm going to a day of tryouts to see who will take me."

"They're making you _try out_?" Draco said, teasing now. They were sat on the long counters in Draco's basement, eating from a bag of hot chips drenched with salt and vinegar that Harry had picked up on his way home. The pub, once again, had been abandoned.

"Well, I sort of insisted."

"You insisted on trying out?"

"Yeah. I don't want them to just give me a place on a team just because of who I am."

"Of course not. It couldn't be because you're a bloody brilliant player, could it? Gryffindors," he sighed derisively. "Ow."

"What?"

"Burned my fingers." Draco held up a slightly pink thumb and forefinger. Harry kissed them better, tasting the tang of vinegar lingering on the skin and healed the burn with a quick spell. "Thanks."

"They have an excellent childcare system," Harry said. "You know. The Quidditch league. And they recognise same- sex partners."

"When would that ever be important?" Draco laughed.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. But it's nice."

"Did you ask someone this?"

"No. But I've got a lot of pamphlets."

Draco smiled. "You know, when I was growing up I always wanted to go out with a Quidditch player."

"Really? Why?"

"Oh, you know. The fame and notoriety. Good seats to matches which didn't require my father's influence to procure. The fact that I could state this around my parents without having to specify which gender of partner I was referring to. The fact that a lot of them are fit."

"I wouldn't know," Harry said honestly.

Draco rolled his eyes. "So... you're going to be a professional Quidditch player now, then?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess it's a possibility. I don't know what else I could do, you know? I haven't got any NEWTs, and I've done pretty much bugger all for the past year. Quidditch is one of the only things I'm good at."

"That's not true. But I'm not going to discourage you from pursuing Quidditch as a career option."

"Oh? What else am I good at then?" Harry asked coquettishly, bumping into Draco with his shoulder.

Draco pondered over a chip. "Sucking cock?"

Choking, Harry punched him in the shoulder. "Wanker."

"Not any more!" Draco sang. "I've got you these days."

Harry hopped down from the counter and balled up the empty newspaper wrapper, throwing it up in the air then wandlessly vanishing it.

"Show off," Draco muttered as he jumped down too.

Harry leaned in for a quick, salty kiss. "I learned from the best."

xXx

The Crup & Duck was quiet for a Friday, the unseasonal sunshine driving the crowds to pubs with beer gardens. Harry had been loathed to leave the house for a drink with his best friend, not wanting to leave Bear alone for even a minute. They didn't get to babysit very often. But the resulting argument was one about whether or not Harry trusted Draco to be alone with the baby, which was stupid, so Harry went just to prove a point. Which he thought was probably Draco's intention all along. Sneaky Slytherin.

"Tell me about him," Ron said.

"What? Who?" Harry asked.

"Malfoy, you idiot."

"Ron, you've known the man for eight years. You know him."

"I know a stupid ferrety git that he was when we were at school, and he must have changed or you wouldn't be with him." He spoke as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry shrugged. "I don't think he has changed all that much, you know. He really is a miserable bastard sometimes."

Ron rolled his eyes.

"No, really," Harry continued. "He still gets in a major strop and doesn't talk to me for hours." He paused. "Sometimes days."

"And you put up with that?"

"Dunno. Yeah, I suppose so. It's just him."

Ron emptied half of his pint as he drank again. "I'm not trying to antagonise things here-"

"Makes a change."

"But why are you with him then?" Ron finished, ignoring Harry's interruption.

Harry's smile dropped slightly. "He's not a different person. He's changed, but we all have, so that's not really saying much. I think I see a different side to him now, one that was always there but he just never showed us at school. If we were friends with him back then he probably wouldn't have seemed like a prat. So much of a prat," he corrected himself.

"So… he's _nice_ to you?"

"Yes," Harry laughed. "He's really sweet at times. And funny! He's got a dirty sense of humour."

"Don't you argue?"

"All the time," Harry said.

"But-"

"But we also spend a lot of time hanging out. If I didn't get on with him he wouldn't be my boyfriend."

Ron choked on his drink. Harry cleared the coughing with a quick charm.

"Your, your…" he spluttered.

"Boyfriend, yes," Harry said, exasperated. "What would you prefer I call him? My partner? My fuck buddy? My homosexual lover?"

"Boyfriend is fine," Ron said weakly.

"You should come over," Harry said decisively. "For dinner or something. George and Angelina did last week, it was really nice."

"He'll probably try to poison me or something," Ron muttered.

"You'd probably deserve it. When's Hermione home next?"

Ron shrugged. "Easter, I suppose. I'm going up there to see her in the morning."

"Do you do that often?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow at his best friend.

"Shut up," Ron said, blushing. "None of your business."

"That means you do."

"I've spent enough time working with law enforcement to know when to shut the fuck up. I'll do that now."

Harry laughed. "How's work?"

They settled in for a more in depth conversation about the progression of Ron's career, a career, Harry thought, that he'd once anticipated for himself. He knew that there was no way he'd be able to be a full time Auror and be a parent at the same time, and that stuck in his ribs, some. It could have been him making heroic rescues of families still in hiding from the war, or tracking down criminals that had been allowed to slide while the Ministry had bigger villains to pursue. He debated the idea of telling Ron about the Quidditch tryouts, not wanting to be seen as boasting, then decided that Ron would rip him a new one if he didn't share.

"Heard you're doing pretty well for the Blackhawks," Ron said, giving him an opening.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. George comes over when we have a home game."

"That's nice of him."

"Yeah. I've uh… I've been approached by a scout. You know, for professional teams."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah," Harry said, secretly pleased with Ron's enthusiasm. "I have to try out, but they want me to play."

"Please take a place with the Canons. Please please please? I really, _really_ want a season ticket. It's been my dream since I was six years old…"

Harry laughed. "I'll see what I can do."

"When are tryouts?"

"They're going to owl me a date," Harry said. "Don't know yet."

"Well, good luck," Ron said. "I really hope you get it."

"Thanks, mate."

Harry returned home to another Weasley in his living room: George was enjoying a glass of whiskey with Draco. Really enjoying it, from the look of them.

"Hi," Harry said, smiling at George and leaning over to kiss Draco's cheek. "Wasn't expecting to see you here. I just left Ron in the Crup."

"Heard he was home," George said. "Thought he'd be off boinking Hermione."

"George. Please," said Draco, holding up a warning hand. "Spare me."

Harry snorted as he slid into the chair next to, and partially on top of Draco. "Pour me one?" he asked.

Draco smiled indulgently and passed him a glass.

"How come you weren't at the pub then?" Harry said to George.

"Angie wouldn't let me," he said. "I told her I was coming over here though, then Draco was kind enough to offer me a drink-"

"As a good host should," Draco said with wide, innocent eyes.

"And so here we are."

"Here we are," Draco echoed.

"You're both terrible," Harry said. But it really was good whiskey.

"Ah yes, now you're home, I can get to the reason for my visit," George said, gesticulating with his glass. "My darling girlfriend and I would like to return your hospitality and invite you over for dinner."

"How kind," Draco said in his posh voice. "Who would have known, Weasley Junior can act like the proper little pureblood he is when he wants to."

"Oi, Malfoy, shut up," George said. "Tomorrow night. I'm cooking. Seven o' clock and don't be bloody late."

He hauled himself to his unsteady feet and took a moment to focus his eyes on the fireplace before striding purposefully over to it.

"Bye George," Harry sang.

"Fuck off," he muttered before disappearing into the green flames.

xXx

They had missed the owl post that morning after Harry had dragged Draco out of the house for an early morning run around the park. The weather was starting to break from the harshness of winter to the first, tentative hints of spring, although the cold air still burned at their lungs and legs as they ran.

There were three birds lined up on the kitchen windowsill, each sporting varying degrees of impatience.

"You can get them," Draco said, still puffing slightly from the run. "I'm going for a shower."

Harry poured a large glass of water as he relieved each owl of its letter.

They were all from Martin Stonestreet, Ron's boss, and as he read the increasingly agitated letters he started to feel a bit sick. Deciding that owl post was too slow, Harry sent his Patronus off to the Ministry and lowered the wards to let Stonestreet through.

Draco was still in the shower when Stonestreet arrived, accompanied, surprisingly, by Neville.

"Mr Potter," Stonestreet said, offering his hand. "Apologies for all the owls. Unfortunately it really is a rather urgent matter."

"That's okay," Harry said. "Hi, Neville."

Neville gave him a tentative sort of smile. "Is Malfoy about?" he asked.

Harry nodded towards the stairs. "He's in the shower. We went out for a run this morning. Which is why I'm a bit of a mess, sorry about that."

Neville and Stonestreet exchanged a knowing look. "Would you mind going to get him?"

"Is everything okay?" Harry asked.

"We'd prefer to speak to you both at the same time," Stonestreet said diplomatically. Harry decided not to argue and ran up the stairs to get Draco, who was still in the bathroom.

"Bugger," Harry said to the locked door. "_Alohomora_."

"Joining me, are you?" Draco called as Harry burst through the door.

"I wish," Harry said. "Aurors' here. Want to speak to us."

"Oh shit."

"Yeah. They won't tell me what's going on. They want to talk to you too."

"Okay. Five seconds," Draco said, shutting off the water. He dried himself with a drying charm and pulled on the jeans and shirt that he'd hung up on the back of the door to let the steam iron out any creases. He took Harry's hand as they headed back to the living room.

"Apologies for keeping you waiting," Draco said smoothly as he greeted the others. "And for the lack of refreshments. Unfortunately I'm not allowed to keep a house elf." He smirked at Harry.

"Don't worry about it," Neville said.

"Please accept my own apologies, Mr Malfoy. I wish I could say we were here under better circumstances. There has been another attempted attack on the Tonks' residence."

"Oh god," Harry said, sinking down into Draco's chair, on top of Draco. Draco gently rubbed his back.

"What happened?" Draco asked.

"I would like to emphasise that this was an attempted attack - the perpetrator was not successful. But it has brought together a number of threads of investigation that we have been pursuing. We no longer think that Andromeda was the intended target."

"Then-" Draco said, horrified.

"Yes. We think that the perpetrator was targeting Teddy."

"Oh god."

Neville pulled attention to himself. "The department have been keeping an eye on several different, seemingly unrelated occurrences which are now starting to build a bigger picture. It appears that the _Prophet's_supposedly altruistic search for War orphans was being manipulated by an outside source who was feeding information to Mildred Spencer, which she then unquestioningly published." Neville paused although, to his credit, refrained from rolling his eyes. "We're still trying to establish whether or not she was acting under Imperius, although from our initial investigation this doesn't seem to be the case."

"Then there's the connection to Nurse Finch," Stonestreet continued.

"Ruth?" Harry said. "Oh no, is she okay?"

"She's fine. A little shaken. Her research into Metamorphmagus children has been noticed and she has received a series of increasingly threatening letters demanding the results of her research and information pertaining to these types of children."

"Bear," Draco said softly. Stonestreet nodded.

"We have also, overnight, checked the magical protecting surrounding your residence, Mr Potter. And Malfoy Manor. Since there is no one living at the Manor, checks on the wards are slightly harder to complete. At this premises it is quite clear that someone has been trying to surpass your wards with some rather nasty curses for a prolonged period of time. Your protection here is exemplary.

"Everyone is okay," Stonestreet repeated. "At the moment. If it's okay with you, I'd like to bring Teddy back here as soon as possible."

"Yes," Draco and Harry said at the same time.

"Of course," Draco added.

Stonestreet nodded to Neville who rose and headed back to the Floo.

"What will happen to Andromeda?" Harry asked.

"She's agreed to work with the Auror department," Stonestreet said. "We are in the process of building an operation in response to this threat. We don't know how many other children may have been targeted, but the chances are it's Teddy's Metamorphmagus abilities which have caused the interest.

"We would also like your permission to do further tests on the wards of the house," he continued. "We regularly check the protection on houses in Muggle neighbourhoods during the course of our work. But further, in depth checks will require your consent."

"That's fine," Harry said. "Do you think that the attack on Draco could have anything to do with this? The traitor's curse?"

Stonestreet frowned. "It hadn't occurred to me, to be honest. I will certainly look into it further for you."

"What now?" Draco asked.

"Neville will be coming back with the baby shortly. Andromeda has been fully briefed this morning. It is imperative, gentlemen, that the bare minimum number of people know that you have Bear back. We would like him to disappear as smoothly this time as he did last time."

"And Andromeda?" Harry asked.

"She will be doing the same thing. Keep to your routines, know that we'll be watching you and-"

"You're using her as bait, aren't you?" Draco said, interrupting and accusing at the same time.

"Plans have yet to be finalised-"

"Fuck. If my mother finds out that her last living relative is being used as bloody _bait_ by the Ministry she'll go bloody nuts. I'll warn you in advance."

"Mrs Tonks is aware of all the risks, Mr Malfoy. And I'll remind you that she is not the target here, the baby is."

"She's already been hurt in the crossfire once!" Draco exclaimed. "It could happen again!"

"But it won't," Stonestreet said firmly. "This time we're expecting it, anticipating it, and readying ourselves to divert whatever comes next. This is being done as swiftly and quietly as we possibly can. Hopefully we can all go back to normal in a few days."

"This is crazy," Harry muttered as the Floo roared green and Neville appeared with Bear in his arms.

Being on top of Draco, Harry managed to spring to his feet and divest his former dorm-mate of the baby before Draco had even gotten up. Neville swung a bag from his shoulder and patted Harry's back.

"You're all up to date?"

"We are," Stonestreet said, standing. "As much as possible, try to stick to your routines. Don't let anyone know anything is wrong. And, for the love of Merlin, don't take him out of the house."

They left in the same flurry of activity that they arrived in.

"Wow," Harry said, sinking down onto the sofa, still cradling Bear to his chest.

"Yeah. Wow," Draco echoed. "Hello, sweetheart, how are you?"

"Wow," said Bear.

xXx

For most of the rest of the morning, Harry and Draco settled Bear back into his new/old home. The interior of the bag Neville had brought with him had been magically expanded and actually contained nearly all of the toys and clothes that Harry and Draco had sent him off with only few weeks previously.

He was bigger, though, 'talking' much more than they remembered and much more active. After finally settling him down for his afternoon nap, they could finally talk.

"Bloody hell," were the first words out of Harry's mouth.

"Yeah. Oh, yeah."

They hadn't even bothered going down to the living room, instead going across the hall to Draco's room and stretching out on the bed. Harry laid on his back, his arm extended so Draco could use it as a pillow. Draco had thrown his leg over Harry's waist, tucking them neatly together.

"I'm exhausted. Did he get more tiring in the past nineteen days?"

"You've been counting the days?" Harry said as he gently combed his fingers through Draco's soft hair.

"Mm."

"They thought of us first, Draco. Before putting him in a foster home or taking him down to the Phoenix or in Ministry approved protective custody, they brought him to us."

"Yeah. It's good, Harry, but that doesn't mean they would give him to us permanently."

"We would have to change the law."

"If anyone could do it, you could. Just ask them nicely. The Wizengamot would fall over their own feet to make you happy."

Harry snorted. "There's nothing to say that we can't be his legal guardians. Or just one of us adopting him. They just wouldn't recognise our relationship to allow us to adopt together."

"Do you want to be his Daddy?"

Tugging softly on the roots of Draco's hair, he considered the question. "No. I don't think so."

"Really?"

"Mm. I'm not his dad, you know. It's probably weird for me because I knew his dad, and his mum, and I don't want to take their place."

"Do you want children?"

"Of my own? Yeah. I always thought I'd have a few kids, you know, make up for the fact that I never had any brothers or sisters of my own."

"Andromeda has already said everything you need to know about my family. There's no way my mother would let me get away with not producing a son and heir."

"What if you had a daughter?"

Draco shrugged awkwardly. "I don't really know. I mean, the Black name died out when my mother got married, even though people used to still mention that I was of Black stock when I was a child. I'm sure no one is ever going to forget that part of history, even though there aren't any Blacks left now. Except me."

"Do you think it will be the same with the Malfoy name, then?"

"Well, obviously my father would prefer for me to give him a son to continue the family name. God, I don't know, Harry. This is all very complicated."

"In theory?"

"In theory…" Draco conceded. "I'd like a daughter."

"I would never have expected you to say that."

Draco laughed. "I don't know why. Maybe it's not fair to bring a little girl up with two fathers."

"I don't think so," Harry said, frowning.

"That's okay. I know that you haven't really had time to contemplate all of the implications of our relationship."

"Mm," Harry agreed. "Like, um, we'd have to get a surrogate mother."

"Yeah."

Harry groaned. "I need a drink. Is it too early for a drink?"

"It's three in the afternoon, Harry. You alcoholic."

They fell asleep like that, curled up together, holding on tight as if to remind each other that they were still there, that it wasn't a dream. Harry woke up slowly to the feel of a warm hand wriggling its way under the waistband of his jeans, fingers teasing the sensitive skin across and around and down further...

He hummed and found some skin to kiss, his lips wrapping around Draco's Adam's apple and sucking lightly. Their hips started to rock together, a familiar friction and rhythm while their lips connected like they'd been drawn together by magnets.

Harry sighed into the kiss, the sweetness of it, the feel of Draco's hand caressing his ass...

"La la la la ma ba da da da?"

"Oh fuck," Draco muttered, dropping his head forwards to rest against Harry's, who laughed.

"He's awake," Harry whispered.

"Yeah."

"Ma ma la la!" Bear shouted. He'd found something in his crib to bang against the bars, too, a musical accompaniment.

"Coming, baby," Harry called out.

"Hey, that was supposed to be my line."

Harry groaned as he rolled out of bed, stretched and padded across the hall to lift Bear from his crib. He cuddled the baby close to his chest, closing his eyes and praying, just for a moment, his thanks that his baby was home.


	20. Politics

Chapter 20- Politics

The immediate feeling of _what the hell are we going to do now?_ soon settled down into routine. It was that, more than anything else, which helped Harry to prevent his falling apart.

Not to say that their routine didn't change, though. It did. And drastically.

An 'elite force' of Aurors were put on the case for Bear's protection. Although they understood the need for the precautions, the constant trampling of a team of people through their house caused considerable disruption to what had become a very open relationship between Bear's two carers.

The issue of 'outing' themselves became a very present one, one that caused no end of arguments. Harry was for it. Draco was against it. There was no middle ground.

The only thing that Harry could take solace in was the fact that the main body of the investigation was being lead by Martin Stonestreet who had guessed at the nature of their relationship and promised complete discretion. The others involved; Ron, Neville, Ruth, the witch who had been at Yaxley Manor, Jamieson and another wizard that Stonestreet had called on particularly for his sensitivity in the matter, Craig Morningside. Morningside was in his thirties and a classic Auror type; tall, clean shaven, features that blended in to the crowd. Gay. Had two children with his partner of eight years.

It was the first opportunity they'd had to speak to someone who had faced all of the prejudices they were anticipating, who knew exactly what they were going to go through in the fight to keep their child. His presence was often a calming one as the ferocity and temper of the investigation picked up, his involvement, although minimal in terms of activity, was priceless in holding their family together.

Between the three of them; Craig, Harry and Draco, they worked out a list of people who absolutely needed to know the current situation. The inclusion of some and exclusion of others was cause for heated debate and the final list was startlingly short: Andromeda (who knew anyway, of course), Arthur and Molly, George and Angelina, Hermione and Minerva McGonagall who, in addition to her position as Headmistress was also heading the Order of the Phoenix. The seven were pulled together for an emergency meeting at Grimmauld Place, the Headmistress and Head Girl of Hogwarts arriving together, clearly unaware of why they had been summoned.

Bear was fussing; it was early evening and he was tired, Draco paced with the baby in the far end of the living room, bouncing and shushing him softly. Harry sat in what was now _their_ chair while the team of Aurors strategized around a large desk that had been set up. Andromeda, Madame O'Connell, Ruth and the other wizard from their hearings, Howsham, were sat together, discussing progress.

Ron looked up as Hermione appeared in the fireplace, his smile widening then breaking into a laugh as she threw herself forward and into his arms. Feeling like a voyeur at their tender reunion, but unable to look away, Harry watched as his best friend gently ran his hand down his girlfriend's back, pulling her in closer and kissing her head.

McGonagall headed straight for Stonestreet after nodding her greeting to Harry, sensing a fellow authority figure and attaching herself to him. Molly and Arthur appeared next, looking frankly out of their minds with worry, then George and a slightly dishevelled looking Angelina. George winked as he collapsed into a sofa and helped himself to a biscuit.

"Lets get started, shall we?" said Stonestreet, silencing the chatter and hum of anticipation in the room. With the Auror team plus invited friends and family the assembled crowd topped seventeen people – eighteen if you included Bear. And Harry did - include Bear, that is.

They had pulled in extra chairs from around the house and set them up in a sort of semi circle, the peak of this was where Stonestreet now stood. While the others found a seat Harry felt restless and climbed over the back of the chair to go and pace with Draco.

"How's he doing?" Harry said in a low voice, resting his hand on Draco's lower back as Stonestreet began his introduction to the case.

"Not bad," Draco said. "I think he's a bit intimidated by all the people but I don't want to put him down just yet."

Harry nodded and brushed his lips across Draco's briefly.

"Don't you want to listen to that?" Draco asked, nodding to the assembled people.

"Not really. They're not going to say anything I don't know already."

They stood in silence for a while, watching the evening creep into night and the fussy child slowly start to fall asleep on Draco's shoulder. He was getting bigger, and much heavier; Harry gently removed the infant from Draco's arms and took the weight himself.

At the sound of their names both men looked up to find the assembled group watching them with varying expressions of shock. Harry took a deep breath for courage, slipped his hand into Draco's and walked back to the fold.

"He's nearly asleep," Harry said in way of greeting or apology, he wasn't quite sure.

Both Molly and Andromeda started to rise to relieve him of his ward but Harry shook his head. "It's okay. I've got him."

"We've gone over most of the background for the case," Stonestreet said. "We just need to talk about how we're going to move forward."

Harry nodded. Draco sat, although Harry remained standing, rocking from foot to foot to reassure him and Bear both.

"If the individual or individuals concerned with orchestrating this attack are to continue following their established pattern, we are expecting some sort of push towards the department of child protective services. The Auror department will, of course, be on hand for any incidences which may arise. The Minister for Magic is aware of the situation and we have his full backing for what must continue to be a covert operation. I am hoping to increase Auror Morningside's protective duties over the child and his guardians," Stonestreet looked to Craig, who granted his assent with a nod. "Good. This situation is also unique in that at this stage, we are very concerned for the safety of magical children with exceptional levels of power or a pureblood pedigree, rather than Muggle- borns, which has been our main concern for the past few years.

"Miss Granger," Stonestreet said, causing Hermione to jump in alarm and blot ink from where she was furiously taking notes.

"Yes?" she squeaked. Ron laid his hand on her knee in reassurance.

"This is where we are hoping you may be able to help. As Head Girl of Hogwarts, Miss Granger holds a position of power and respect among students. We have compiled a list of children we believe may be under threat and we would like for you to be our eyes and ears within the school."

Hermione nodded and straightened perceptibly. "Do you think they need extra protection?"

Stonestreet considered her question. "Not yet," he said. "Maybe in the future. More than anything we need your observations. You have been a student at the school for a long time, we want to know any whispers among the students, anyone who might have heard something at home, any children who look or are acting strangely."

"Good luck with that," Neville said, making her smile.

Hermione chewed her lip and started scrawling hastily again.

"We'll get that list to you," Stonestreet said. "Headmistress, clearly, your impressions will too be vital in ensuring that the safety of the children in your care is not compromised."

"I am sure you are aware, Auror Stonestreet, that we take considerable steps to protect the students at my school."

To his credit, Stonestreet did not wither under McGonagall's impressive disdain. "Yes, Headmistress, I know. However, there are times when the children leave the school during the school year. There are some, I would suggest, who should not roam Hogsmeade alone."

She cocked her head in acquiescence. "I'll see that it happens."

"We are hoping, with your consent, to increase the protection around the residences of Mr and Mrs Weasley, and Mr Weasley and Miss Johnson," Stonestreet continued. "It is not practical to keep Harry and Draco imprisoned here, they need to be seen to be acting normally otherwise this too may raise suspicions."

"That's fine," George said immediately. "I mean, I'm happy to babysit as well, if you need me to?" He looked to Angelina who nodded her assent.

"We'll keep that in mind. Mr and Mrs Weasley?"

"Yes, fine, of course," Arthur said. "May I ask, Auror Stonestreet… what is the risk here? Not to say that it isn't a risk we are not prepared to take. But…"

"Considerable," Stonestreet said frankly. "Mrs Tonks was in a coma for over eight months. We now have strong suspicions that the traitor's curse that Draco was hit with was also linked with this case. Both should, according to their attacker, be dead. The only other relative that Teddy has is-"

He didn't need to say it. All eyes turned to Harry Potter, Teddy Lupin's godfather. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Don't worry about me," he said. Smiling grimly, he tapped his forehead. "Indestructible, remember?"

Molly let out something that was half sob, half wail but to her credit, refrained from flinging herself across the room to sweep Harry up in a hug.

"You're not indestructible, Harry," Stonestreet said, rolling his eyes. "You need as much protection as the rest of them."

"With all due respect, no I don't," Harry said. "I'm not going to hide. Never again."

Andromeda took Bear up to bed, changed him and gave him his bottle before rejoining the group who had started to go over their plans for moving forward.

"I really think we should tell people," Harry insisted. "If we do it ourselves then it can't be some big press scandal."

"It'll be a press scandal any way it happens," Jamieson insisted.

Certain people had left after the bulk of the meeting was over; those who were left were battling through the finer details of what would happen over the coming weeks.

"I'm fed up of arguing," Draco groaned. "Just do it." He slumped with his head in his arms, curled up in one corner of the sofa. Harry leaned in and kissed his shoulder. McGonagall stared.

"Well, I say it more than I'll ever admit, but Dumbledore was right," she murmured.

"About what?" Harry asked, frowning.

"About you and Mr Malfoy," she said. "He was convinced that animosity was not the root of your little rivalry."

Harry laughed and shook his head. "Did anything get past him?"

"Not a lot," McGonagall admitted. She stood, unfolding herself to her impressive height. "If you will excuse me, gentlemen, but I must return to the school. Miss Granger?" Hermione looked up from where she was entangled with Ron and blushed. "Breakfast is served in the Great Hall from eight in the morning. Make sure you are there."

The Headmistress left with an arched eyebrow and a swoosh of her dark cloak. Hermione buried her head in Ron's neck and groaned.

"What?"

"She knows."

"Well yeah. Anyone with eyes knows, sweetheart. Come on," he stood and pulled her to her feet. "Lets go home."

"Be good," Harry called after them as they headed for the fireplace.

"And if you can't be good, be safe," Draco added.

Both laughed at Hermione's emphatic middle fingered salute.

"Bed?" Harry asked.

"Mm. Shower then bed."

"Bath then bed?"

"Even better."

They bid goodnight to the Auror team who were still working, their round- the- clock presence a familiar one now. Not that they had quite gotten used to the fact that first thing in the morning there could be up to five people sat in their kitchen, drinking coffee (although the Aurors brought in the good stuff, Columbian beans, _and_ they shared). Wandering about the house with no clothes on was a high risk activity.

The others knew about their relationship, of course, and their temporary office was a security measure as much as it was for convenience. As had been proven, Harry's house had some of the best magical protection possible. And the sad fact was, even in Auror HQ, the team was safer operating out of private quarters than the teeming offices at the Ministry.

Even so, they'd made a few simple house rules: no one was to go to the third floor or basement unless invited. Do not engage in conversation with the portrait of Mrs Black. And share the good coffee.

In all, it was working out fine.

However much Stonestreet wanted to keep sensitive information away from Harry and Draco, things still filtered through. They knew now that this went beyond their relationship, beyond Bear, even; there was possibly the lives of many orphaned, abandoned or missing magical children at stake. The numbers no longer added up, the disappearances were more than suspicious and the likelihood was that this had been happening for years.

Under the cover of Voldemort's reign of terror, another, just as dark witch or wizard had been operating. No one knew whether or not Voldemort had any hand in the disappearances, the general consensus was that it was probable. All they knew was that these children, for whatever reason, had been selected as special, or talented, or immensely powerful.

While Draco ran the water for the bath, Harry surveyed the list of 'at risk' children that Hermione had been given and copied for them to look through. The name Luna Lovegood stuck in his throat.

"Luna," he said to Draco. "They've got Luna on here."

Draco laughed and shook his head. "To borrow a phrase – mental. But then again, when you consider her family…"

"Her dad's just as mental as she is," Harry said. "Trust me."

"I do," Draco said. "But these old pureblood families prefer 'eccentric' to mental."

"She's pureblood?"

"Pure as they come," Draco confirmed. "We're related by my dad's family, way back along somewhere. And her mother was immensely talented, from what I can remember. Also a pureblood, of course. Scandinavian."

Shirts, jeans, boxers, socks were piled into the laundry basket. Wands remained within grabbing distance. The newly revived conspectus charm bopped around the room, chasing Harry's snitch, who seemed to be chasing the swirls of steam. Harry had long since given up on pretending that Dumbledore's gift hadn't taken on certain anthropomorphist qualities. It was clearly sentient on some level and, just as Draco had once commented, much more fond of Harry than of his companion. And much more fond of the conspectus charm and Draco's origami cranes than either of its humans. Harry just let it be. It didn't hurt anyone.

He, as usual, got to sit with his back against the hard porcelain with Draco's back pressed to his chest. A cushioning charm made it slightly more comfortable but not by much. Draco turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to the underside of Harry's jaw.

"Went well today, considering."

"Yeah."

"I thought McGonagall's eyes were going to bug out of her head at one point," Draco said, giggling. Then he sobered. "She never liked me much."

"I imagine she was frustrated with you. You had so much to give and you were just giving it to the wrong people." Draco hummed in discontent. Harry splayed his fingers over the other man's wet chest and kissed his lover's head. "You've changed, Draco."

"I know."

Harry took a deep breath and relaxed further into the warm water, his fingertips trailing absently over Draco's chest. It was a very nice chest.

"I've been put in charge of the summer fundraiser for the orphanage," Draco said.

"Yeah? What are you going to do?"

"No idea. I want to make it big, make sure absolutely everyone knows about it. Get lots of money coming in. But that's as far as I've got right now."

"How about…" Harry sat up a little straighter in excitement. "A Quidditch tournament?"

Draco was silent for a moment, during which Harry was pretty sure he rolled his eyes.

"No, wait," Harry continued. "It can be for ex- Hogwarts students. An inter- house deal. We can play six games, then the top two teams with the most points play each other to determine the overall winner. If we round up people who used to play for the school teams then I'm sure we can get enough people for a team from each house."

"Forgive me for seeing more problems than solutions right now," Draco said drily. "Who's going to organise this, Harry? Where will they train? Where will the matches be played? Who's going to fund it? Where will we get the uniforms from? How will we actually make money from it?"

"Okay, well, we charge for tickets, obviously," Harry said. "And we can drum up support in the _Prophet_. Sort of, I don't know, resurrect old rivalries. If we sweet talk enough people into it then they'll donate their time for free. And their pitches."

"We're relying an awful lot on the goodness of people's hearts."

"There are people with good hearts out there," Harry teased. "And deep pockets. I know mostly the first lot…"

"I know, I know, and I've got the handle on the second, right?"

"You've got the idea," Harry said, smiling, leaning in to steal a kiss.

"Okay, what about professional players?"

"That doesn't sound fair..."

"But they'll bring in publicity," Draco argued. "How about one pro on each team?"

"Could work," Harry acquiesced. "We need some big names, then."

"You want to play?"

"Of course. I want you to, as well."

Draco smiled. "There are far better ex- Slytherin Seekers out there than me."

"You're actually considering it."

"Yeah… It could work." Draco's smile grew wider. "This could really work, Harry."

"I know. I'm a genius."

"Shut up. I'm going to owl Gwenog Jones first thing in the morning."

"Gwenog Jones was not a Slytherin," Harry laughed.

"Yes she bloody well was."

"No she wasn't! She was a Hufflepuff!"

"No way."

"Trust me," Harry said. "She was Ginny's idol. Hufflepuff."

"Fine. We're going to need team captains for each team," Draco said, tapping his fingers absently against Harry's.

"Someone to drum up support?"

"And recruit," Draco said, agreeing. "I can't help but think that someone from our year for each team would be good. To sort of, I don't know, show some sort of solidarity. Then they could recruit from wherever they want."

"Sounds good," Harry agreed. "I expect Cho would be happy to take the Ravenclaw side?"

"Your ex," Draco said sarcastically.

"Oh, shut up. You're my now, who gives a fuck about my exes."

Draco huffed. "If you ask Chang then I suppose we have to ask Smith to captain the Hufflepuffs."

"Ugh. I never liked Zacharias Smith."

"Did anyone?"

"Fine. I suppose it would be rude if we didn't."

Their skin was starting to wrinkle in the warm water so they got up, leaving the water to drain as they brushed their teeth, wrapped from the waist down in fluffy towels. Harry bumped Draco with his shoulder. Draco smiled around his toothbrush and returned the affectionate gesture.

Harry managed to round up the conspectus charm and his snitch, making the two follow them back to the bedroom. They changed silently into boxers and slid into turned back sheets, finding solace and comfort in each other's arms.

There wasn't time, tonight, for more intimate activities; not beyond the gentle slide of warm hands on barely damp skin, soft kisses against smiling mouths, the turning of bodies to fit snugly against each other.

"Tired?" Harry murmured.

"A little," Draco admitted. "Long day. I hate politics."

Harry gently ran his fingers through Draco's hair, pushing it back from his face.

"Me too. Good night, baby."

"Good night."

xXx

"You need to leave him sat in front of a mirror for a while," Andromeda said, bouncing Bear on her hip as his hair turned from blonde to lilac.

"Really? Don't you think Draco's narcissistic tendencies have rubbed off enough yet?" Harry said, looking over his shoulder then sticking his tongue out at the subject of his teasing.

"Fuck you," Draco sang, not looking up from the pile of parchment on the kitchen table. With the Dreamless Sleep variation finished, and the attention it had been getting in the medical community, Draco had taken the more than slightly nerve-wracking decision to submit his findings to the Magical Medical Council of England for them to run further tests on the potion. If it passed, Draco could be granted a licence to sell what promised to be a highly profitable brew.

"Draco!" Andromeda scolded. "Language. And yes, along with all of the other developmental things you get to worry about, Bear needs to learn the limits of his Metamorphmagus abilities."

"Okay," Harry said and levitated three mugs of tea to the kitchen table. "And he does that by looking in a mirror?"

"Mhmm," Andromeda hummed around her mug. "No, sweetie. It's hot. He changes his eye colour and hair colour and some of his features but he probably isn't doing it consciously. That's not exactly right. It's... instinctive, rather than controlled. If he can watch in the mirror what happens when he changes something then he'll learn how to control it."

"It's fascinating," Harry murmured.

"Well, we went through all of this with 'Dora, so..."

Harry knew that it was painful for Andromeda; he himself could see the resemblance between Bear and his mother, even at the young age he was, so he could only imagine how difficult it was for her. Andromeda shrugged and smiled.

"Is he walking yet?" she asked.

"Trying to," Draco muttered. "I spend more time levitating stuff out of his way than anything else at the moment."

"He likes to play Mr Grabby and Mr Pulley a lot these days, too," Harry said, poking Bear in the cheeks then lifting the squealing baby into his lap. "And you're especially fond of Harry's glasses, aren't you?"

"Any words?"

"A few," Harry said.

"'Wow'," Draco offered. "'No'. He likes saying 'no', actually. Ummm..."

"'Duck'," Harry said. "I have no idea where he got that from, by the way."

Andromeda laughed. "That, Mr Malfoy, is why you need to watch your language. He'll pick up all sorts at his age."

"He won't let us feed him any more, either," Harry said.

"Except his bedtime bottle."

"Right. It's a nightmare, we have to try and find food he can feed himself otherwise he just screams and screams."

Bear was clearly getting tired with being passed from one person to another, so Harry transfigured an empty cereal box into a makeshift playpen and Summoned a few toys for him.

"Are you two doing okay?" Andromeda said seriously.

It had been nearly three weeks since the Aurors had invaded their home and life was hectic. If they didn't have enough to worry about with all of the comings and goings and developments in the investigation, Harry had been given the date for his Quidditch tryouts and only had a week left to prepare. They were having to balance babysitters for whenever they both wanted to go out at the same time - which was more than they had anticipated.

"We're fine," Draco said. "Busy, but fine."

"When all of this dies down, I hope that we can come to an arrangement," Harry said gently.

Andromeda nodded and tucked her dark hair back behind her ear. "I was expecting you to say that."

"And?" Draco asked.

"I've been doing some research," she said slowly. "Making some enquiries at the Ministry. It would be very difficult for you both to petition for parental status. I know you didn't want to hear that, but it's the truth. In nearly all cases adoption is granted to a married couple. A man and a woman," she added at Draco's frown.

"But that's not fair," Draco protested.

"I know it's not," she said. "But unfortunately, that's the law. Sometimes, in extenuating circumstances, they may grant adoption to a single man or a single woman. The good news is last year a lesbian woman was allowed to adopt her female lover's child, so that they could share parental rights. It's a long way off what you're trying to do but it's a start."

"Is our being together going to be a benefit or a hindrance, do you think?" Harry asked.

Andromeda shook her head. "I have no idea. I think more than your relationship, your age is going to work against you."

"But we've had him for months! He's been with us for longer than anyone else. He's grown up with us."

"I know, sweetheart," Andromeda said, patting Draco's hand. "And we'll use all of this when we go to the Wizengamot. But you need to realise that there are a lot of influential members who hold seats who were born in the last century. They are old, and miserable, and more than anything else, conservative. In their world a male lover is something you take on the side without your wife knowing, not someone you settle down and make a family with."

Draco sighed heavily. "Did you speak to Madame O'Connell yet?"

"Lenore is behind us, yes."

"Well that's something," Harry said.

"She's one woman, though. An influential woman, of course, but we're going to need a lot more than just one to get this through the Wizengamot."

"He's worth it," Draco said as he peered over the edge of the playpen. Bear was playing with a stack of brightly coloured blocks; he turned to smile widely at Draco before returning to his game.

Later that afternoon Harry found a spare half an hour to sit with Bear in front of a mirror, as Andromeda had suggested. Draco was in his lab, working on something, and for once none of the Aurors needed anything from him.

The mirror in Draco's room was perfect. They could sit on the floor, Harry cross legged, leaning against the bed, Bear sat on his lap boosting him to just the right height.

"Go on then, look at yourself," Harry muttered. Bear seemed much more interested in the pattern in the carpet, or the walls, or the bloody duvet than his reflection. "Look!"

It took a few minutes, but finally Bear seemed to recognise Harry in the mirror before he realised that he was looking at himself. He gave a startled cry, pointing at the reflection and turning back to look at Harry, then looking back to the mirror again.

"Yeah, it's you," Harry said, laughing. He tickled Bear's ribs gently, something that always got a reaction out of the baby and sure enough, his hair turned magenta.

Bear watched, fascinated.

"Do it again," Harry whispered his encouragement.

By the time Draco appeared in the doorway half an hour later, Bear seemed to be getting the hang of his talents.

"He can do pink and blue and back to his normal colour," Harry said excitedly. "No progress on eye colour or changing his features yet though."

"That's amazing," Draco said. "Aren't you a clever boy?"

Draco slumped down on the floor, propping himself up on an elbow. Running his fingertips over Harry's jeans from scuffed knee to worn out pocket, he chewed his lip, then ran a gentle finger down Bear's chubby arm and looked up to meet Harry's eyes.

"Sometimes I feel like the luckiest person alive, do you know what I mean?" he said softly.

Harry leaned down and kissed the top of Bear's head, and reached for Draco's hand.

"I do."

* * *

_A/N: I'm sorry for unpredictable nature of my updates at the moment, I've just got so much going on, my head is all over the place!  
However committed to this story I am, and I am very committed to it, the pace of my writing has been forced to slow down due to my job changing. I'm no longer writing whole chapters in a day and my evenings have been spent working in the theatre. I know I say it a lot, but I really can't guarantee weekly updates any more, this is the last chapter of EDF I've finished - I've got nothing written/ beta'd beyond this point!  
Just before you start panicking, **IT WILL GET FINISHED**. I've never abandoned a story yet and I have no intention of starting now.  
At the moment I'm reading _Turn _by Sara's Girl, my favourite Drarry author ever, and it's just unbelievably amazing. If you can't wait for updates, both _Reparations _and its sequel_ Foundations _are well worth a read. Check my favourites list for links. - HFS xx_


	21. The Fifth Team

_A/N: My writing muse came back. We had wild, rabid sex and made this baby.  
I promised myself I wasn't going to post anything new until I had at least three chapters in reserve, but I seem to be back on track so with two and a half chapters in reserve, I'm breaking my own rules and posting this one. Call me a rebel.  
I'm heading off to London for a long weekend tomorrow; I'm going to see Kings of Leon in Hyde Park. (You can be jealous now.) Will any EDF readers be there? I'm always up for meeting people for a drink or two (or three). If not I'll see you all next week some time. _

* * *

Chapter 21- The Fifth Team

It was late. Harry knew that he'd never really fallen asleep, he'd dozed for a few hours, tossing and turning, curling himself around a warm body then rolling away to find the cool side of the pillow. It was no use. At ten to four in the morning he quietly slipped from between the sheets, dressed silently and closed the bedroom door behind him.

Checked in on Bear, just to make sure. The baby was sleeping soundly.

Despite the late hour there was still a murmur of voices from the second floor living room. Harry bypassed the Aurors, letting them get on with whatever business it was that they were dealing with. For the most part he liked to stay blissfully ignorant.

In the kitchen a lone figure was hunched over a mug of coffee.

"Neville?"

Neville jerked up and fixed Harry with a slow, sleepy smile. "'Lo, Harry. Why are you up so late?"

"You can call it early, now, I think," Harry said. He made tea, not wanting the hit of caffeine. "How come you're still here?"

"On the late shift, aren't I," Neville said. "It's been a long night."

Harry nodded and took a seat opposite his old dorm-mate. "Thanks. You know. For everything you're doing for us."

"It seems to be the night for thank yous," Neville mumbled.

"Hmm?"

"No matter."

Harry sipped his tea and waited for Neville to elaborate. He did, after a few moments.

"Draco came down earlier, when you were putting Bear to bed."

"Oh?"

"He apologised to me." Neville looked up from his coffee, his eyes displaying a range of confusing emotions. "He apologised. To me."

Harry nodded sagely. "That was nice of him."

"You think so? I thought maybe it was another way of him making fun of me. Or an opportunity for him to lull me into a false sense of security."

"Draco wouldn't do that," Harry said, bristling at the implication.

Neville just rubbed the side of his nose slowly, then balled his fist and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "I don't even know. Why are you with him, Harry?"

"Because he's a different person now. And he deserves a chance. Just like the rest of us."

"I don't know. I don't understand. How do you know that he's changed? What proof do you have?"

It was Neville's desperation that stopped Harry from snapping at his friend.

"If he had any Dark intentions towards me, he's had nearly a year to carry them out, Nev," Harry said. "We sleep in the same bed. If he was that intent on murdering me he's had hundreds of opportunities."

"I don't think he wants to murder you," Neville said slowly. "What made you change your mind? He was just so awful to us, Harry."

"Draco is probably a bigger victim of the War than you and I combined," Harry said. The heat from the ceramic was burning his hands, he laid them down on the wood instead. "He was terrorised in his own home. His father was conditioning him to think a certain way, to act a certain way and be a person he never wanted to be. All this started when he was still a child. I don't think I can blame him for what he did. He was a victim of his circumstances, just like the rest of us."

"He could have come over to us. The Order would have protected him."

"We would have, yeah," Harry agreed. "I think, and this isn't an excuse, just a reason, but I think he was scared. So very, very scared."

Neville shook his head. "I don't know any more."

"Can I tell you about the man I know? Not the child who bullied us."

"Yeah. Go on then."

"He's quiet," Harry started. "Very academic. He's interested in everything, how it fits into the order of things. He's an incredible father figure; sweet and kind and gentle. He, um…" Harry sighed, looking over to the stove. "He couldn't cook when he moved in here. But we cook together a few nights a week now, and he's learning. He gets up early in the mornings, earlier than me, and makes breakfast for me. Gets Bear up. With the whole Quidditch thing, he's behind me a hundred percent, because it's what I want. So he wants it for me."

"I don't know the person you're talking about," Neville said. His voice held an apology.

Harry tilted his head to the side and shrugged. "Maybe that's why he said thank you. To show you the man he is now."

A voice called down the stairs for Neville, who gave Harry a small smile. "Sorry. Duty calls."

"For what it's worth," Harry said, standing too. "Thank you from me, too."

"I'd do anything for my friends, Harry," Neville said. "You should know that by now."

xXx

Harry had been allowed to sleep late.

He woke when the sun was already high in the sky, peeking in through the curtains, the light spilling across the floor in abstract lines. The extra rest had, paradoxically, left him more tired than if he'd woken at six with Draco and started his day then. There was no need to worry for his partner, or Bear, or anyone else… clearly, they were being well looked after.

It was stifling.

He dressed slowly in jeans and a soft white and blue striped shirt that he rolled up to his elbows. There was no need for socks or shoes. Although others had complained about the cold hardwood floors in the house, whenever Harry's bare feet came in contact with the floor they felt pleasantly warmed. Harry took it as Grimmauld Place's acceptance of him being there.

Draco was in the kitchen, washing up from breakfast. These little displays of domesticity still surprised and entertained him, even after all this time. Especially when Draco too had rolled his shirtsleeves up, revealing inked, scarred, damaged skin on his left forearm. Harry came up behind him and braced his hands on the other man's waist, leaning in to gently kiss softly stubbled skin.

"You shouldn't have let me sleep so late," Harry murmured.

"Well, when people get out of bed for late night about the house wanderings, it is sometimes nice to let them catch up on their rest," Draco murmured back.

Harry couldn't quite decide whether or not he was being sarcastic. He kissed Draco again, pulled his wand from his back pocket and started casting drying charms on the clean crockery and stacking the plates back in the cupboard.

"Where's Bear?" he asked conversationally.

"With Craig."

"Oh."

The rest of the washing and drying up process was finished in silence before Harry turned on the other man, backing him against the counter and offering light, sweet kisses to cheeks and lips and earlobes.

"Draco, did I do something wrong?" he asked after moments of unresponsiveness.

He could see the snappy brush- off on Draco's lips, the hard, sarcastic words that were threatening to spill forth. Instead, he sighed.

"No, you didn't. It's me. Could you just give me a couple of hours? I'll talk to you later."

"Okay," Harry agreed, pressing another light kiss to Draco's lips. "Call for me if you need me."

"I will."

He watched as Draco straightened his sleeves, fixing the buttons at his wrists to cover his forearms once again, then disappeared through the door that lead to his basement. Harry knew that the progress of Draco's NEWT coursework had slowed considerably with all of the upheaval in their lives and he was now facing the same deadlines as many of his fellow students at Hogwarts. There was the option available for Draco to go back and sit his final exams at their old school, or to go to the Ministry to do it there. Harry knew that for Draco, neither option was particularly appealing.

With Draco in one of his sulks, Harry wandered back to the upper floors where part of Martin Stonestreet's team sat, working through piles of parchment and maps and old spell books, searching for any further clues to the unknown, unnamed force they were working against.

"Where's Craig?" Harry asked Jamieson.

"Oh, he's taken Bear out for a few hours," she said distractedly. "He's layered the baby up and they're staying in Muggle London anyway, so no one should notice anything."

"'Kay," Harry muttered, and left.

He wasn't worried about Bear being out with Craig. It was far too dangerous for either he or Draco to take the baby out and it was unfair to keep him cooped up in the house all day. There was a very real temptation to slip into paranoia and insist that no one other than Draco or himself be allowed to take care of their child, or never to let him out of the house at all. But if the War had taught him anything it was that trusting others was essential to their survival.

Craig Morningside was one of the top protection Wizards that the Ministry had to offer, and Harry trusted him. Mostly because Craig hadn't given them any reasons not to trust him, but also for all of the little things like showing Harry pictures of his kids, or letting Harry take an imprint of his magical signature, not unlike the one the Ministry had of Draco's, which allowed Harry to locate the other man anywhere in the world.

It wasn't paranoia if someone really was out to get them.

With Bear safe with Craig, at least for the time being, Harry decided to head over to the shop and annoy George. To his credit, he stopped by a bakery on Diagon Alley first and bought a box of doughnuts to sweeten the deal.

"What's the matter, Potter, don't you have a home to go to?" Mary- Anne called out as the bell above the door rang, signalling his arrival.

Harry laughed and offered her a cake. "This place is much more exciting."

She waggled her eyebrows and attempted to lick sugar from her nose. "George is in the office."

"Of course he is."

George wasn't in his office. Harry was tempted to go back out to Mary- Anne and demand an explanation, then, on a whim, he decided to explore the Weasley twin's old, long abandoned inventing room.

The last time he had stood in the room it was dark, covered in a light dusting of dust which had settled in the weeks of disuse. Every time he'd passed the door since, which was covered with a variety of warnings of danger, death and dismemberment, it had been firmly locked. Harry had come to accept that George needed time, just time to prepare himself before venturing back into the room where he and his twin had caused mayhem and mischief for magical children all over the country.

Now, the room had been transformed to something of its former glory.

George was pacing between two experiments that seemed to be happening simultaneously but independently of each other, one producing puffs of purple smoke while the other, a thick, gelatinous sludge, oozed generously over the side of a cauldron.

"I brought doughnuts," Harry offered, introducing himself to the melee with an unashamed bribe.

"Good. Make coffee and you can stay," George said, not looking up.

The sludge was collected into a short, wide tin and placed in a Muggle refrigerator. Harry decided not to ask and turned for the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with two mugs of coffee.

Just as he did in Draco's lab, he hoisted himself up onto a counter in an out-of-the-way sort of spot until George paused in his efforts, wiped sweat from his brow and looked around for Harry. Smiling, he picked his way through stacks of boxes, each branded with the vivid Weasley W, and joined Harry on the counter.

"This one for me?" he asked.

"Yup. Doughnut?"

"Hell yeah."

They munched in companionable silence until Harry felt confident enough to ask "What the hell are you doing?"

George delicately licked sugar crystals from the corner of his mouth. "Experimenting."

"I can see that."

"I'm considering the financial viability of expanding into the confectionary market."

"You're… opening a sweet shop?" Harry translated.

"Considering it," George agreed, his eyebrows raised as he licked raspberry jam from his thumb. "Honeydukes would be my main competitor. Need to find a good angle to be able to carve out my own place in the market."

"Well, you set up this place with competition from Zonko's, and you're both still doing alright," Harry said. "Competition is supposed to be healthy."

"True," he acquiesced. "Still. These things need to be considered. I'm thinking of starting by extending the Snackbox range, go from there."

"Is that what this is?" Harry asked, gesturing to the mess surrounding him.

"Raspberry Red Rash Ruffles," George confirmed, gesturing to the still smoking purple potion. "The one I just put in the fridge is a Headache Hazelnut Crunch and I'm thinking of something in the Conjunctivitis range."

"Chocolate Conjunctivitis Cups?" Harry joked.

"That's a good one," George said. He patted in his pockets and withdrew a quill, then wrote the name on the inside of his arm. "How many I's does conjunctivitis have?"

"A maximum of two."

"Oh, ha ha," George deadpanned, but Harry could see a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I had an idea the other night for Bleeding BonBons, but I wasn't quite sure what I'd want to make bleed."

Harry, who all to well remembered the early, experimental Nosebleed Nougat, was reluctant to suggest anything. "But you've already cornered the bleeding market," he suggested.

"True.

"I also thought about lollipops that make your hair turn another colour," George continued. "I was inspired, shall we say, by your godson."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, I can see that working."

"They look like normal lollipops, of course, until your hair turns pink or blue or purple. The problem I'm having is containing the colour change to just the hair on your head." He raised his eyebrows pointedly. "I think I gave Angie a bit of a shock."

There was a beat of silence until both men descended into purely adolescent giggles.

"I meant to ask you before, how did the trials go?" George asked.

"Good, okay, I think," Harry offered.

The trials had happened a few days previously and reminded Harry of early House tryouts from their school days. Not that Harry had ever had to try out for the Gryffindor team, his place went without saying. This experience, seen from the other side, being judged and assessed by others was new to him, and wholly terrifying. There was about fifteen other players, mostly the same age as him or a few years older, all shocked at the presence of Harry Potter amongst them. They were put through a gruelling series of tests and trials, rigorous training routines and set pieces, a Quick Quotes Quill taking notes at the assessor's elbow the entire time.

Finally, they were split up and played a few quick games where Harry was required to play first as a Chaser, then as a Beater, never being given chance to show off his skills as a Seeker. In the changing rooms after the other candidates had been complaining of the same thing, leading Harry to conclude that they were being tested on their flexibility within a game situation.

Since he'd never played Beater before, and only played Chaser a few times in context of friendlies with the Weasleys, Harry thought he'd fared rather well. It would be a few more weeks until he found out whether or not a team was willing to take him on.

"Can I ask you about something?" George asked.

"Yeah, of course."

"You know this Quidditch tournament you and Draco are organising?"

"Mm?"

George looked down at his hands. "This is going to sound really sentimental, and I don't want it to be. Fuck it. When we were kids, we always used to joke that there were enough of us to make a Quidditch team. The Weasley Seven. And we never got to do it, not all seven of us playing together against another team.

"Could we enter?" he said, looking up to meet Harry's eyes. "As a fifth team? The Fred Weasley memorial team."

"Yeah," Harry said immediately. "Yeah, that's a fucking brilliant idea."

George smiled and huffed a relieved laugh. "Charlie would play Seeker, of course. I reckon Bill would play Beater with me, and Ron would be Keeper, and Ginny and Fleur and Percy would be the Chasers."

"I didn't know Percy could play Chaser," Harry said.

"He can't," George laughed. "But he would want to play. Fleur played Chaser at Beauxbatons and Ginny is good too, so they'll force him to pick up his game."

"Did you ask any of them yet?" Harry asked.

"No. I wanted to check with you first."

"Like I would say no. Although..."

"What?"

"Now you've actually stolen half my team."

George smiled evilly. "Deal with it, Potter. And you better find some good replacements, because Charlie Weasley was tipped to play Seeker for England."

Harry groaned "Don't I just know it."

He brushed stray bits of sugar from the knees of his jeans, then cast a cleaning spell at his sticky fingers.

"You know we're allowing each team to have substitutes, too? And a professional player," Harry said.

George shrugged. "I'll figure something out."

"You're not having Angelina," Harry said quickly. "So don't even think about it. She's mine."

"Okay," he laughed. "Fine. I won't argue with you." He sobered. "Really, Harry, thank you."

"Fred was one of us," Harry said softly. "He would love this."

"Being the centre of attention?"

"Something like that."

Through a gap in the window, a soft blue ball of light squeezed into the room and immediately took the shape of a soaring magpie.

"Craig and Bear are home," it said in Draco's voice. "I'm guessing you're at Weasley's. If you are, tell him he owes me a drink."

"Thanks," Harry said and reached out a hand to the bird before it dissipated into the air.

"Was that Draco's Patronus?" George asked.

"Yeah."

"It's…"

"A magpie, I know."

George snorted inelegantly. "Fantastic."

"I know," Harry repeated. "I should go. I haven't even seen Bear yet today."

"No worries," George said, vanishing the now empty bakery box. "Don't be a stranger."

"I won't. I'll be seeing you on the Quidditch pitch before long."

George laughed. "Yes. I'll be rounding up the troops tonight, no doubt. Ginny will be mad… she won't get to start training with us until she finishes school."

"She's still playing on the Gryffindor team though, right?"

"Oh yeah," George said. "She'll be fine. It's Percy I'm worried about."

They exchanged goodbyes and Harry disapperated, concentrating on the kitchen of his home and hoping that the Aurors hadn't changed the wards again without telling him.

xXx

As they gathered around the table for breakfast the following morning, Martin Stonestreet gathered his team and passed a piece of parchment down to where Draco and Harry were sat, eating toast and supervising Bear's banana and porridge.

"There was another attempted attack on the house last night," he said. "Attempted attack, Mr Malfoy, no one got through our defences."

"Oh, god," Draco sighed, dropping his head to the table. Harry reached over and gently patted his shoulder.

"How do you know?" Harry asked.

"There was a breach in security," Stonestreet admitted. "A small one. But a breach nonetheless. It seemed that an owl got through, Merlin only knows how, but for some reason he wasn't able to get far enough to deliver the actual letter."

Harry tugged sharply on Draco's hair. He sat up, rubbing the sore spot. A look was exchanged between the two men. They had agreed not to tell the Auror team about the enhanced powers of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, and the desires of the house to provide for its occupants.

"How do you know that it came through?" Draco asked.

Stonestreet hesitated, looked to Jamieson then back again. "The bird was found dead in the courtyard. Its parcel wasn't retrieved."

"Oh god," Harry muttered.

"We want to test the wards," Stonestreet said, looking more official than ever. "It's time to find out exactly how secure you are here."

"How are you going to test them this time?" Draco asked. "All you lot ever seem to do is test the bloody wards."

"We want to launch a full scale attack against the house," Ron said bluntly as he buttered a triangle of toast. "No holds barred."

Stonestreet rolled his eyes, but agreed with Ron's statement. "We don't know how they will hold up against several assailants working in tandem," he explained.

"How?"

"No one who has ever been in the house before can be involved," Jamieson said, picking up smoothly from where Ron left off. It seemed the team had been well briefed. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear before she continued. "We're going to bring in an elite team of hit wizards from another department. They won't know who lives here, or why the attack is necessary. Everyone except the three of you will need to clear out and you're encouraged to protect yourselves. They will be prepared for certain defences, not others, and we want to know, for sure, how safe you are. We may need to move you."

"There's something else," Neville said, folding up that morning's _Prophet_ and holding it out for Stonestreet. "I don't know if you've seen this, but according to the press, Draco Malfoy is 'missing'."

There was a flurry of activity at the table as people tried to gather around the article.

"What do you mean, _missing_?" Draco demanded.

"Hold up," Stonestreet's booming voice echoed over the melee. "Let me read it."

"I'll paraphrase," Neville said wryly. "They've found out, from god only knows where, that you're not at the Manor. It says that the house has been unoccupied for months and although you've been seen in London, no one knows where you are."

"It seems that they've checked your house in France, too," Stonestreet said in a low voice.

"They've been to _France?"_ Draco exclaimed.

"Looks that way," Neville said. "It's gossipy nonsense, but with everything else that's going on, the timing is highly suspect."

"Exactly," Stonestreet agreed. "We already know someone is leaking information to the press. I want a full investigation into this," he said briskly, slapping the paper back down on the table. "Interview the reporter, find out who the hell their source is."

"They'll never give us that, boss," Ron said, shaking his head. "You know what the press are like with their sources."

"Then you'll have to find out another way then, won't you? Good work, Longbottom. Reconvene here at fifteen hundred."

He disapparated quite impressively, leaving the rest of the team to scramble in his wake, rushing off to do his bidding. Harry and Draco were left alone with Bear, who had smeared most of his porridge over his face and hands and eaten very little of it.

Draco shook his head, a small smile on his face.

"Are you worried?" Harry asked.

"I don't know if there's anything to be worried about, yet," Draco said reasonably. He picked a cloth to wipe Bear's face, looked at it, dropped it again and cast a cleaning spell which made the baby squeal at the cold tingle.

Harry lifted him from his high chair and pressed a kiss to the clean, rosy cheek. "I'll go get him dressed."

"Okay."

"Oh, and Draco?"

Draco paused from his descent down into his basement. Harry grabbed the front of the other man's shirt and pulled him into a hard, heated kiss; their lips bruising as they clashed together, hot tongues sliding close, teeth nipping at swollen lips until Bear's emphatic "no!" broke them apart.

Harry giggled and kissed Bear's head quickly.

"Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about you," he murmured.

"What was that for?" Draco asked, loathed to reveal that he was slightly breathless from the kiss.

"Because I love you," Harry said and leaned in for another quick one.

"How much?"

"Mm, later," Harry promised. "I'll show you later."

Draco leaned in close so that Bear couldn't hear them. "I want you inside me again," he whispered, his voice low, and bit Harry's earlobe.

Before Harry could even fashion a response to that, Draco ducked through the low doorway that lead to his basement, leaving Harry to deal with the swooping feeling in his stomach and the familiar tightening in his trousers. And the baby in his arms.

Typical.


	22. Et Dona Ferentes

_A/N: This is the chapter that happened when my muses started shagging each other like the horny beasts they usually are. For that reason, it's one of my favourite chapters so far. You'll be pleased to know I'm still writing very, very quickly.  
Thank you to everyone for all your support on this story. For what is a writer, without anyone reading his work?_

* * *

Chapter 22- Et Dona Ferentes

Draco caught up with Harry when he was brushing his teeth.

"He's asleep. Bedroom. Now."

"Give me a minute," Harry laughed. Draco shook his head and grabbed the waistband of Harry's pyjama bottoms, dragging him out of the room by the elastic.

The bedroom door was locked with a solid _Aromohola_ and Harry was pushed back against the wood.

"Want you," Draco murmured, attaching his teeth to Harry's bare shoulder. "Want you right up deep inside me."

"Oh god," Harry whimpered. He hardened in his pyjamas, filling out against the soft flannel fabric as Draco kissed and licked his neck and shoulder. "Bed..."

Hands flew over skin, pulling off clothing and throwing it around the room until two long, lean, naked men tangled their legs together, one dark against one light, their hips canting together to find that delicious friction.

Their kisses were intense; Harry cupped the back of Draco's head in his hand, angling their mouths as their tongues slid together. His fingers twirled around soft blond locks and tugged quickly to elicit gasps of brief, burning pain.

Draco made an attempt to roll over, to present himself on all fours as was his habit.

"No," Harry said, slapping his flank. "On your back."

Even as Draco opened his mouth to protest, Harry pressed his lips down against it in a hard kiss.

"Don't argue with me, Malfoy, on your fucking back."

Draco swallowed visibly and spread his legs. He threw his head back and groaned loudly as Harry took his cock in his fist and pumped it a few times, then bent his head to swallow the first, most delicious inch into his mouth.

With repeated practice Harry had mastered a wandless, nonverbal _Accio,_ the only wandless, nonverbal spell he knew (and the only one he needed, as he frequently argued with Draco). The recently replaced silver tin of lubricant made a satisfying smack as it landed in his outstretched hand.

As his mouth travelled down Draco's hard shaft he flipped the lid off the tin and slicked up his fingers, pressing them at Draco's entrance and gently stroking the wrinkled skin before it granted him access. He slicked the lube around the tight muscle, taking care even as his fingertips sought to tease and torture, not quite giving enough to cause real pleasure.

When Harry sat back on his haunches Draco's mouth was red and slick from their kisses, contrasting with his pale skin and the pink flush that stained his cheeks and chest. Harry stroked his own erection leisurely, spreading the warm liquid down his length and wiping the excess on his thigh before lunging forward and catching Draco's knees in the crook of his elbows.

"I'm going to make you scream," he whispered.

Draco fisted the sheets in his hands as Harry flicked smooth, elegant ankles over his shoulders and bent his boyfriend in half. He braced his forearm on the bed and reached back to angle himself against Draco's entrance then pushed forward, achingly slowly.

The blond man was whimpering, begging wordlessly and humping his hips back by the time Harry was fully seated inside him. He knew, from experience that it would take Draco a moment to adjust and Harry gave him that, then another moment more just to make sure.

Then he pulled his hips back and slammed back in deep.

Draco arched his back off the bed and a strangled cry escaped from his throat.

"Not good enough," Harry said. "I want you to _scream,_ baby."

The pace was furious, by either of their standards and Harry took great pleasure in watching the strain in Draco's jaw and neck as he fought against the pleasure threatening to spill over. As his balls slapped wetly against Draco's ass, Harry leaned down and peppered kisses across Draco's lips, concentrating on the tiny, fuzzy hairs at the corner of his mouth and the sweet, full swell of his bottom lip.

This position, new to him as it was, felt different to Harry; he could feel how much deeper he was, how much more Draco was opened up to him. It meant, too, that in the moments when they both opened their eyes, grey looked up into green, moments exchanging between them without the need for words.

Draco's hands released their death grip on the bedsheets and came to grip Harry's upper arms, helping him to re-angle his thrusts just a millimetre upwards until Harry felt it and could find it on his own, pressing the head of his cock repeatedly against that spot that was sure to make Draco come, it just had to...

When Draco came, shooting hard against both their stomachs, Harry was pretty sure he heard his own name mixed in amongst the strangled scream that he had demanded. It was definitely there in the sob Draco let out after the scream, and in the breathless gasps after that. Harry dropped his forehead to Draco's and just let go, riding through the clench and release contractions in Draco's ass, letting his own orgasm draw out the pleasure for his partner until his arms gave out on him and he collapsed onto Draco's chest with a grunt.

For a few moments he laid there, letting Draco smooth his hair back from his face with gently combing fingers until the strength to move returned to him and he rolled over, onto 'his' side of the bed where he could reach for his wand and cast a cleaning spell over both of them.

Then he flopped back to recover.

They laid, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, ankle to ankle on the bed. Harry was breathing deeply, his hands resting on his stomach but resolutely not sleeping. Not at all.

When something danced across his vision, behind his eyelids, he dismissed it as his snitch. When it flew back again, he cracked open an eyelid.

"What on earth are you doing?"

Draco was producing glimmers of green light and making them dance across the room, bouncing off the walls and ceiling like a beam of light refracted through a prism. Controlled by the palm of his hand, rather than his wand, he was seemingly teasing Harry's snitch.

Draco cleared his throat. "Nothing."

The light disappeared as Draco dropped his hand.

"No, bring it back, I want to see."

When it reappeared Harry watched intently as each little movement of Draco's fingers caused the light to pulse and flicker, change direction or split. The snitch zoomed around happily chasing it.

"How do you do it?" Harry asked.

Draco rolled his head to the side, mussing his hair up, and smirked. "Magic."

"Oh, shut up," Harry said, elbowing him in the ribs. "What's the incantation?"

"There isn't one," Draco said. "This is the fundamental core of wandless magic. Did no one ever-" he broke off suddenly.

"Sorry," he said after a moment.

"Don't worry," Harry said. "Just show me, please?"

Draco frowned as he wiggled his fingers again. "I don't know if I can," he said. "It's just – you just – just _do_ it, Harry."

"Really?" Harry asked sceptically.

"I mean it. There's no spell or anything. It's just a physical manifestation of your magic. You just need to do it."

"Fine," Harry huffed. He stretched out his hand towards the ceiling, mirroring Draco and waited. "Nothing's happening."

"Well, you do need to _try," _Draco said. "Put some effort into it."

With some encouragement and no little effort, Harry concentrated on pouring the dancing light out of his fingertips. It took a few minutes and when his arm was starting to ache, finally it happened.

"Look!" he exclaimed. In his excitement the light went out.

"It's good, do it again," Draco encouraged.

The light that joined Draco's on the ceiling wasn't green, or even Gryffindor red. It was a rich, deep gold.

"Can you change the colour?" Harry asked. He was focused intently on the light, making it dance and flutter like he'd seen Draco do.

"I can't," Draco said. "My mother can. She used to make rainbows for me at bedtime when I was a child."

"How come you didn't show me before?"

Draco shrugged. "I haven't done it in a long time. It was a bit of a competition in the Slytherin dorms. I got it long before Blaise or Pansy. Saying that, it still took me about a month to learn how."

"Really? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you would have convinced yourself you couldn't," Draco said reasonably. "Like wandless magic in general. And Occlumency."

"Oh, don't start on that," Harry groaned. "I am more than okay with the fact that I'll never be a master Occlumens."

"It's a useful skill to have."

Harry hummed noncommittally and made his gold lights bump up against Draco's green ones. Draco wriggled his fingers and the two strands of light wrapped around each other, sparks shooting out from one to the other. It looked like the double helix of Muggle DNA, only with the lines going out instead of in.

"Cool," Harry murmured.

Draco looked over again and dropped his hand, but before Harry could protest he'd leaned over and planted another soft kiss on Harry's lips.

"What was that for?" Harry asked.

Propping himself up on his elbow, Draco twirled his fingers around strands of Harry's hair that had fallen forward into his eyes.

"I was just wondering what would have happened if, instead of hexing each other, we'd given this a go at school."

"The entire world would have imploded," Harry whispered.

Draco's eyes crinkled into a smile and he kissed Harry again, on the forehead this time, right on his scar.

"Remind me why we hated each other so much?"

"Because you were a bully and obnoxious and mean to my friends," Harry started ticking points off on his fingers, "And a know it all and a rich snob..."

"And remind me why you're with me now?"

The edge in his voice told Harry the other man was only half joking.

"Because you're brave," he said seriously. "And strong. And so incredibly loving. Because you took a chance. Because even when you had lost everything, all you wanted was to give a tiny baby another chance at having a family.

"And most of all, because you've never once treated me like the Boy Who Lived or any of that crap. You see me as _Harry,_ the same pain in the ass I've always been. And you love me all the same."

Draco sighed heavily, frowning, and pressed his lips into a hard line.

"Please don't doubt us," Harry finished in a whisper.

"I don't," Draco said.

"Then kiss me."

With a tentative smile, Draco lowered his head a third time and left light, lingering kisses on Harry's lips, cheeks, eyelids... finally laying his head down on Harry's shoulder and tugging the duvet up to cover them both.

"I love you too."

"Night, Draco."

"Night."

xXx

They locked the doors, blocked the Floos, barricaded the windows and prepared to fight.

Bear was napping soundly in his crib after being thoroughly worn out by George and Angelina earlier in the afternoon and as dusk settled over Grimmauld Place, strange characters began to appear in the square.

Some stopped and lit cigarettes, then kicked a foot back against the railings as they smoked lazily. A tramp considered an almost empty pizza box and poked at the contents. A harassed young business woman in icepick heels walked briskly down the pavement, her shoes clicking on the cracks.

And in half a heartbeat, a burst of magic rocketed through the square.

This protective bubble was so strong that it caused television screens in surrounding houses to flicker, causing Mr Fisher at number eight to swear violently at Noel Edmonds. To be fair to Mr Fisher, he was already in the process of calling Noel Edmonds a 'poncey prat', so his outburst wasn't completely the fault of the magic.

Inside number twelve, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy stood shoulder to shoulder, side by side, wands drawn. The clock in the upstairs hallway ticked resolutely towards six thirty, the minutes counting down with ticks that echoed through the house. The silence was oppressive after the weeks of activity and Harry turned to look at the man standing next to him.

The last fight that they'd been involved with was when they were on opposing sides, the significance of the change that had happened in the past year not lost on either of them. The Draco Malfoy who was fighting now was stronger; physically, mentally, magically. The scared teenager unleashing havoc and friends and Fiendfyre was gone along with the harsh black robes, slicked back hair and wide, haunted eyes.

This Draco Malfoy was taller, broader; still dressed in the fine fabrics he'd grown accustomed to in his youth but now preferring softer colours and Muggle designs. His hair curled around the nape of his neck and tucked in gentle waves around his ears. At once he looked older and younger, more serious and more carefree.

This Draco Malfoy wore his sleeves pushed up to the elbows, no longer ashamed of what his forearms revealed.

The clock ticked forward.

Harry slipped his hand into Draco's, tugging him around to lay a soft, sweet kiss on the other man's lips. They didn't need to exchange words about the momentousness of the occasion.

As the clock chimed six thirty both men held their breath, waiting for the attack to begin.

And let it out again.

The house lay as still and silent as it had moments before and Harry's grip on Draco's hand tightened. This was somehow worse, this absence of activity luring them into what was surely a false sense of security.

As the seconds, and then minutes ticked on, Harry wondered if there was maybe a problem. Or maybe not… the point of the exercise was to test the protective wards around the house. If they were strong enough, powerful enough, then maybe they were keeping the team of hit- wizards at bay.

Or maybe not.

After ten more minutes of waiting, Harry tugged on Draco's hand and they sat on the top stair, watching down to the front door below. Not even any noise permeated through, the eerie, sullen silence wrapped around them, making Harry shiver.

"Are you cold?" Draco asked as Harry pulled the cuffs of his jumper down to his wrists.

"Mm. Do you think something went wrong?"

Draco shrugged. "I hope not."

Another five minutes passed and Harry shifted so his back was against the banister, one foot propped up with his arms wrapped around his knee. Draco was wandlessly producing bubbles with one hand and popping them with stunning spells with his wand arm. Then he switched.

Finally, twenty minutes into the so called 'siege', Harry stood, frowned, and called forward Prongs.

"Are you sure that was a good idea?" Draco asked dubiously.

"We're about to find out."

A few minutes later Ron's Jack Russell appeared through the front door.

"Let us in?" it implored.

Draco raised an eyebrow as Harry stood. "It could be a trick."

"You can't cast someone else's patronus," Harry said over his shoulder as he jogged down the stairs. He opened the heavy oak door to the full team of Aurors, plus four others that he didn't recognise. "I suppose you better come in."

xXx

"What's going on?" Draco asked as the team settled in the kitchen. Stonestreet had taken the team of hit- wizards back to the Ministry for a full debrief and analysis and had left Neville and Jamieson in charge of taking down Harry and Draco's account.

"A lot," Jamieson said. "What happened in here?"

"Nothing," Harry said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "What happened out there?"

"Action- wise? Not much. Information- wise? A lot," Jamieson admitted. "We couldn't even get as far as your protective wards. There's a spell preventing us even picking the lock on the front door."

"Go on," Draco said.

"It's an ancient magic called et dona ferentes," Jamieson said. "I studied it a long time ago now."

"What the hell does that mean?" Draco demanded.

"It's not quite as simple as that," she said, the apology clear in her voice. "The complete phrase is one that the Muggles know of, too; _Timeo Danaos ____et dona__ ferentes_. It means 'beware of the Greeks, even when bearing gifts'. It's old, old, magic, Draco."

"Old… and Dark?" Neville asked.

"Those sorts of distinctions between good and bad just don't exist in these types of spells," she said, shaking her head. "This is from the time of Ancient civilisations when magic was just magic. Dark magic, as we know it, is a relatively modern invention."

Frances Jamieson was one of the more quiet members of her team, but her calmness belied the incredible strength and immense knowledge she harnessed. When watching her work, Harry often felt like he was being given a sneak peek into what would happen if Hermione ever decided to join the Auror department.

She stood, and started to pace as she explained.

"It's a magic of deep distrust," she started. "It was created around the fifth century BC and its purpose was to keep out unwanted foreign visitors. If the magic detects someone, or something it deems a risk to the inhabitants, it requires some sort of sacrifice before it will allow those to pass."

"A blood sacrifice?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Jamieson agreed. "Most likely."

"I've seen it before," Harry said softly. "When Dumbledore took me to the cave where he'd found one of the Horcruxes, he had to put his blood on the wall before we could go through." He looked over to Ron. "That was where we found the locket."

"I wouldn't be surprised that the Dark Lord used it," Jamieson said. "Like I said, it's not necessarily Dark in nature; you can walk away from it unharmed."

"Can we take it down?" Ron asked.

"There's no need to," Jamieson said. "I doubt many, if anyone alive today would be able to perform the spell. Leave it there. It's not hurting anyone."

"Et dona ferentes," Draco repeated. "Could it be on the Manor?"

"Maybe," Jamieson said. "I'd have to check."

"How about Yaxley Manor?"

Her eyes widened. "I see what you mean. The traitor's curse is a very crude imitation of et dona ferentes, Draco. It's definitely Dark Magic, intended to harm rather than protect."

"It sounds complex," Neville said from the corner of the room, where he'd been watching and jotting down notes. "But the most important thing is that you're well protected. What has to be our main concern now is the possibility of someone finding out about the spell, and making that sacrifice. Would the house let them in then?"

The room fell silent.

"We know whoever is trying to get in is not above unscrupulous means," Neville continued. "I wouldn't be surprised if they lowered themselves to a blood sacrifice in order to get through the spell."

Harry looked to Draco, then back to where Neville was sat with Ron on one side and Craig on the other.

"There's someone who would be able to tell you," Harry said.

"Who?"

"Mrs Black."

"Sorry, mate, but are you bloody mad?" Ron demanded. "That old bitch can barely string two words together unless it's some kind of vile insult."

"That's not entirely true, Weasley," Draco said.

"She has a little crush on Draco," Harry added.

Draco rolled his eyes, and blushed. "She recognised me as a Black heir and will talk to me for that reason."

"And there's something funny about the house," Harry said.

"Could have told you that years ago," Ron muttered as he stood and put the kettle on.

"It… reacts to us."

"In what way?" Jamieson asked. "Et dona ferentes shouldn't affect the inhabitants of the house unless they're under threat."

"It's not that," Harry said slowly. "It was quite dramatic at first, like with the basement and the garden. It revealed parts of the house to Draco that the rest of us had never seen before."

"That's…" Jamieson said, then shook her head. "I was going to say that's impossible, but I suppose..."

"It's possible," Draco said. "Trust me."

"Has anyone researched it at all?"

Ron hid his smirk by scratching his nose. "Hermione had a look into it over Christmas. Well, she spent three days in the library and left in a sulk. She did say that it doesn't appear to just be one spell though, it's like a layered effect of one spell on top of another. Like… each generation had tried to out do the other with their adaptations to the spell."

Jamieson nodded. "That would make sense. You said there's a library here?"

"Second floor," Draco said. "Third door on the right. Help yourself."

"Thanks." She took a mug of tea from Ron and turned to Craig. "You coming?"

"No, my shift ended an hour ago. If I go now I should be able to put the kids to bed."

They bid him goodbye and rearranged themselves around the table.

"For Merlin's sake, Weasley, don't let Jamieson meet Granger. The two of them working in cahoots could take over the world as we know it."

Ron snorted his agreement. "Aware of that. And I won't."

"Will you talk to the portrait of Mrs Black?" Neville asked Draco, who nodded.

"In the morning. She won't like being woken up at this time."

"Have you ever heard of this spell before?" Harry said, tugging Draco down to sit next to him.

"It rings a bell," Draco said. He laced his finger's with Harry's under the table, out of sight of Ron and Neville. "I'm not sure though. I'll ask my mother."

"She's out soon, isn't she?" Neville asked, his tone even.

Draco nodded. "A few more weeks."

"Bear's birthday first," Harry said. "Molly's throwing him a party."

"Hopefully it'll all be over by then," Neville said.

Ron raised his mug in a toast. "I'll drink to that."

"You'll come?" Draco asked Neville. "To Bear's birthday party, I mean."

Neville nodded. "Of course."

Ron finished his tea first and stood. "We should get going."

"Thanks for the tea," Neville said, smiling tentatively at Draco.

"No problem. Oh, and Longbottom?"

Neville's face fell.

"Weasley... George, I mean, comes over to drink my good whiskey on Friday nights when these two are out at that dive The Crup. You should come over one night."

"I'll keep it in mind," Neville said. Then he laughed, shaking his head. "Later, Malfoy. Harry."

He disapparated before he was subjected to the sight of Harry pinning his boyfriend to the counter and snogging his brains out.


	23. Of Pure Blood Society

_A/N: Deep breath... here we go...  
More from me at the end._

* * *

Chapter 23- Of Pure-Blood Society

"Malfoy," Ron called, jogging down the steps in to the kitchen.

"Weasley," Draco said neutrally. Then he ruined his nonchalance by pulling a wide- eyed, mouth open face as he directed a spoonful of porridge into Bear's mouth.

"There was a letter delivered to the Manor for you," Ron said, holding out an envelope. "We had to test it for curses. But it's clean."

Draco cocked his head to one side as he gave the spoon to Bear, who promptly began to use it as a drumstick, and slid his thumb under the heavy parchment, breaking the wax seal and pulling out a card. He read it quickly and his lips twitched.

"It's from Pansy," he said. "Well, Pansy's parents. Inviting me, and a guest, to the naming ceremony of their new baby grand-daughter."

"Oh," Harry said, extracting the drumstick from Bear's grasp and attempting to restore its use as a spoon. "Are you going to go?"

"I really should. She was one of my best friends."

"Was?" Ron asked.

"I haven't seen her in about six months, Weasley," Draco said as he stood and took their breakfast things to the sink. "She pretty much hid herself away when she was pregnant. It must be that her family have welcomed her back or they wouldn't be holding the ceremony."

"Will you take Harry?" Ron asked boldly.

Draco's eyes grew wicked. "I really should," he said, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops on Harry's jeans and tugging him close. Harry laughed and wrapped his arms around Draco's neck.

"Think of the rumours," Harry said deviously.

"It would be all over the society pages."

"Death Eater in Gay Scandal," Draco murmured with his lips against Harry's neck.

Harry threw his head back and laughed delightedly. Ron rolled his eyes and looked away.

"Boy Who Lived Likes Cock," Harry whispered into Draco's ear.

"Would you two cut it out?" Ron interjected.

"Sorry," Harry said, although his nibbling at Draco's neck somewhat nullified the gesture.

"You would have to wear full formal robes, you know," Draco said, pulling back slightly. "There's no getting away with jeans under your old Gryffindor robes."

Harry groaned. "My old formal ones don't fit any more."

"That's because the last time you wore them was fourth year," Draco said scathingly. "It's not exactly going to send you spiralling into poverty to buy a new set."

It was this argument that had Harry making a trip to Madam Malkin's the week before the party. Draco already had a set of formal robes that he sent for from the Manor and left 'airing' in the spare bedroom. Harry's old bedroom.

Madam Malkin was thrilled to see him and fitted him out in a set of standard black robes, slightly dismayed that he wasn't going to branch out into something more adventurous. He hung them up next to Draco's, liking the way they looked next to each other.

Another argument sprung up about the security measures surrounding the party, but there was no way of getting around the fact that the majority of the guests would be purebloods, Slytherins or a combination of the two. There was no way the Auror team would be able to surreptitiously infiltrate. Stonestreet was uneasy about letting them go, but reluctantly agreed that the two men were well prepared to take care of themselves and that any risk involved would likely be overshadowed by the impending gossip surrounding the fact that they were there, _together_, and with a baby to boot.

It was risky, they knew that, but it had been nearly five weeks of having the Aurors working out of Grimmauld Place twenty four/ seven and only small progresses were being made on the case. Stonestreet had Ron and Neville and Jamieson chasing their tales around Ireland for days, following a lead that was as often hot as it was dead cold.

They couldn't stay locked inside forever.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked, amused. They had shared a shower (for water conservation, of course) and Draco had finished grooming himself in almost a record amount of time.

"To talk to your bloody painting," Draco huffed, tugging at the collar of the robes. "When did these things get so uncomfortable?"

"Since you discovered proper clothes," Harry teased and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Can I watch?"

"Yeah. Go get your cloak."

They met at the curve of the staircase where the large painting hung.

"Et dona ferentes," Draco said after pleasantries had been exchanged.

"Ah," Mrs Black said, raising an eyebrow. She carefully brushed down her skirt and turned back to Draco. "Who has been attacking my family home, may I ask?"

"We don't know. I am here to ask for your assistance on the matter of the house's defences. It seems that the more we research our unknown protection, the more we learn of our ignorance."

"It is a spell of great complexity."

"And of many adaptations?"

"Indeed."

"I do not wish to press, Mrs Black, but we have cause to fear for our safety," Draco said, his calm façade slipping into a brief moment of frustration. "The time has come for us to ask for as much help as we can."

"The house will protect its inhabitants," she said shortly. "At all costs. With no exceptions."

"That's not how I understand it. There has been break-ins before, thieves, looters…"

"The inhabitant at that time was not a Black," she said icily.

Draco nodded. "I understand."

"I daresay you do," she said and, possibly by summoning the magic of the house, the heavy curtains flew shut.

Harry pulled off the invisibility cloak.

"Well that went well."

"Oh, shut up, you," Draco grumbled as they made their way back upstairs. "You need to finish getting dressed. We need to leave soon."

"I've never been able to get this bit," Harry said, twisting his arm up his back as he stood in front of the mirror, trying to dress in his formal robes.

"Come here," Draco said, smiling indulgently. He finished fastening the robes at the back and laid a kiss on the side of Harry's neck. "I like your hair."

"Yeah, well, it's short. And tidy," Harry said, running his hand through his much shorter than normal hair.

He turned and straightened Draco's bow tie.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Draco whispered.

"What?" Harry whispered back.

"We look hot."

Harry laughed. "Yeah. We do." He sobered, then. "Are you sure we're ready for this?"

Shrugging, Draco said, "Yeah. I think so. We've been together for nearly a year. It's time to stop hiding."

xXx

"Cynthia Marguerite Alberta Parkinson- James," Harry read from the order of service they'd been given as they took their places in the Parkinson's ballroom. "What a bloody mouthful."

"Shh," Draco said, swatting Harry on the arm lightly. "Someone will hear you."

"Draco, every single person in this room is currently watching us. And you're more worried about what I've got to say about Pansy's daughter's name?"

"I'm more worried about Rita Skeeter having somehow shoehorned herself in."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, baby. It'll be all over the papers tomorrow whether she's here or not."

"I know. But she's the only one vile enough to make up the details she doesn't actually know."

The whispers, which were swirling around them like wind through reeds, died down as the minister stepped up at the front of the room to perform the service. Harry had never been to a wizarding naming ceremony before; it was long, and boring, and involved lots of standing up and sitting back down again. He spent most of the time making faces at Bear, and turning the cuffs of the tiny, baby-sized shirt he was wearing red. Much to Draco's annoyance.

Finally, it was done, and a very proud looking Pansy showed off Cynthia Marguerite Alberta Parkinson- James to the elite of wizarding society. As they stood (again) and applauded, their chairs rose and rearranged around tables at the edge of the ballroom and a low hum of chatter started up again.

"That's our signal," Draco murmured.

"For what?"

"To start _mingling._"

Harry huffed and pouted. "I hate mingling."

"We all do. But it's one of those things you just have to get on with for the sake of the family name."

Draco passed Bear over to Harry, who balanced him on his hip. "Okay. Where do we start?"

"We should go and congratulate Pansy."

Harry rolled his eyes but slipped his hand into Draco's, letting himself be lead through the groups of people to where Pansy was standing with her parents and her daughter in her arms.

"Pansy," Draco said, pulling his housemate into a hug and kissing her on both cheeks. "You look radiant. Congratulations."

"Draco," she replied, smoothly handing Draco her baby. "You've changed." She turned to Harry, then, and tickled Bear under the chin. "It was so nice of you to come, Harry. I understand this is your godson?"

"Yes," Harry said. "Teddy Lupin. Although we call him Bear."

"How adorable," she said, tucking her long, dark hair back behind her shoulder. "You and your boyfriend nearly upstaged me, Draco. How crass of you."

"Pansy, darling, you're completely un- upstage-able," Draco said in his most charming voice. "Your daughter is nearly as beautiful as her mother, who seems to have dropped all of her baby weight and a little more, if I'm not mistaken? Although your breasts are fairly enormous, I must say."

"Thank you. Although I noticed you're walking with a slight limp, Draco darling. Is he worth writing home about?"

"All that and more," Draco said. "Could Cynthia's father not make it today?"

"No, he's in Spain, attempting to reconcile with his wife," she said sweetly. "Speaking of which, I simply must compliment your choice of same-sex partner. If one is to go gay, the Saviour of the Wizarding World is one impressive way to state that one likes it up the arse."

"If only you'd learned that trick, Pansy. We might not be standing here today," Draco said, winking and handing Cynthia back so she could throw up on her mother's shoulder rather than his. "We must move on, there are others waiting to talk to you. So lovely to see you again. Ta ta for now."

Harry laughed incredulously as he was lead away again. "You're horrible to each other!"

"It's our way of showing we care," Draco said, smiling. "If I was nice she'd worry that something was wrong."

"Slytherins are fucked up creatures," Harry said. "I'll have a word with the Sorting Hat," he whispered to Bear. "We can make sure you end up in the best house."

"You don't want to start that in this ballroom," Draco teased, pulling Harry around so they were facing each other. "You'll be vastly outnumbered."

"Dear me, is that young Lord Malfoy?" a smooth voice interrupted causing both men to jerk out of their little bubble.

"Lady Yaxley," Draco said, not quite managing to hide his surprise beneath upper class manners. "It's so nice to see you again. May I introduce you to my partner, Harry James Potter, and my nephew. Ted Remus Lupin."

Harry took Draco's lead and took Lady Yaxley's hand, leaning in slightly to brush a kiss over the back of it. "Charmed to meet you," he said, tightening his hold on the baby.

Lady Yaxley was a statuesque woman, almost as tall as Draco and Harry with a long neck and graceful shoulders. She wore diamonds at her throat and more around her wrist; her robes were sweeping, duck egg blue and her light brown hair was twisted back from her face in an elegant knot.

"It is I, Mr Potter, who is most charmed to meet you," she said softly. "I have, of course, heard so much about you. And your beautiful... son?"

Harry smiled blandly and gently rubbed Bear's back.

"Godson," he corrected, politeness forcing the correction even as the word stuck in his throat.

"Do excuse us," Draco said, taking Harry's wrist and leading him away.

"What the hell was that?" Harry hissed as they ducked into an alcove in the hall. He pressed a hand to Draco's chest - his heart was beating rapidly.

"I thought she was dead," Draco whispered. He swallowed convulsively. "I really thought she was dead. It's like seeing a ghost."

"Who is she?"

"Yaxley's wife, of course," Draco said. "I haven't got a clue where she's been."

"Maybe she was at her fucking Manor," Harry said. Bear started to wriggle, wanting to be put down so he could crawl about, but Harry wasn't letting him go.

"No... she couldn't have..." Draco protested weakly.

Harry pulled his wand from his robes, ready to send his Patronus back to Grimmauld Place, demanding the Auror squad's presence.

"No," Draco said, catching his hand. "They'd never get in."

"We have to do something," Harry said. Bear started to cry.

"Let's go back in," Draco said. "They'll notice we're gone in a minute. Act normal, see what you can find out."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm the only Gryffindor in the entire place. No one will talk to me."

"You'd be surprised," Draco said wryly. "Amongst this lot, power is everything. And you've got more power than the rest of them combined."

They returned to the ballroom hand in hand. It pained Harry to do it, but he allowed Draco to take Bear, smoothly transferring him to his own hip and wiping away the frustrated tears with the pad of his thumb.

"Pansy's over in the corner," Harry said in a low voice, his head ducked low as he straightened his robes. "Looks like her baby is crying."

Draco nodded to let him know he'd understood and went over to talk children with his old housemate. Harry returned to the bar and was gifted with another glass of champagne, which he sipped slowly, although it did nothing for the twist of sickness in his belly.

Surely enough, before long he was approached by another old housemate.

"Zabini," Harry said, inclining his head in greeting.

"Potter." It didn't take long for the tall dark man to start fishing for gossip. "So, I see you're all shacked up with Draco these days. Shocking."

"Isn't it just," Harry agreed.

"And with a brat, too."

Immediately, Harry's heckles rose. "He's my godson. And Draco's nephew. His parents died, Zabini, we're all he has left."

"How... _moral_ of you," Blaise said slowly. "I see you're flirting with the potential in-laws already."

"Huh?"

Blaise sipped his drink. "Lady Yaxley."

"Draco's _related_ to her?" Harry exclaimed.

"Potter, Potter," Blaise sighed. "When will you learn? When you move in these circles, we're all related."

"I'm not sure that's something to be proud of," Harry murmured.

Blaise shrugged. "Welcome to pure-blood society."

Returning to his drink, Harry watched the sweep of high society laid out in front of him. Across the room Draco had calmed Bear down and the baby was now happily chewing on a piece of cheese that Draco had taken from the buffet table.

As Bear turned his hair a soft shade of sage green and his fingertips butter yellow to match the cheese, Harry noticed the wide eyed stare of more than one person in the room.

It was nothing compared to the hungry _want_ in the eyes of Lady Yaxley.

Harry dropped his glass and Disapparated on the spot, reappearing at Draco's side and grabbing him in a blind panic.

"Come on, we have to go," Harry murmured. "Sorry, Pansy."

"It's okay," she said, shaking her head at Draco's attempt to start explaining. "I'll cover for you. _Go, _Draco."

"Take all of us," Draco said and Harry nodded his understanding, grabbing Draco by the arm and turning once more into the discomforting twist of three way side- along Disapparition.

xXx

"Are we..."

"Diagon Alley, yes," Harry confirmed.

It was almost creepy at night, with all the shops closed up tight and only the light from several taverns along the street lighting up the cobblestones.

"I don't know if it's safe to go home," Harry said. "She's been trying to get at me there already. Now she knows both you and Bear are with me. I'm not taking any chances."

He knocked on the door to George's flat and tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for it to be opened.

"Harry?" George said, opening the door wearing a pair of pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt.

"Can we come in?" Harry asked quickly.

"Yeah, sure."

George opened the door wider and the three piled into the flat. Angelina was curled up on the sofa when they followed George through to the living room; she too was in her pyjamas and reading a book.

"Hey guys, what's going on?" she asked. "I thought you were at the pure-blood ball."

"We were," Draco said drily. "Call Stonestreet, Harry."

Harry took a deep breath and reminded himself of the feeling of being wrapped up in Draco's arms. "_Expecto Patronum."_

"What's going on, guys?" George asked.

Draco sank down into the sofa and put Bear on the floor, then unbuttoned his robes from around his throat.

"We know who's after Bear," he said wearily.

"What?" George demanded. "Who?"

"Lady Yaxley," Harry said. George frowned.

"I thought she was dead too, Weasley," Draco said. "Apparently not. According to Pansy she's been living with her parents in Northern Ireland, 'recovering' from the shock of the war."

George's eyes widened with understanding.

"Did she know about the Aurors breaking into Yaxley Manor?" Angelina asked.

"I'm sure she did," Draco said. "Her parents, Lord and Lady McQuillen, if I'm not mistaken, would be in their eighties by now. If she wanted to slip past them it wouldn't be too difficult. I'm sure it was her who cast the traitor's curse. I fucking _know_ it was her."

Harry watched as Draco self-consciously rubbed at the scarred skin on his forearm. He knew that it still itched, sometimes.

"Was she a Death Eater?" Harry asked softly.

"No," Draco shook his head. "She was childless. Something happened... she couldn't... Oh, god."

He dropped his head, fisting his hands in his pale hair. Harry shucked off his robes and slid onto the sofa next to Draco, pulling the other man into a tight embrace.

"How many others?" Draco asked. "How many other children has she got?"

"She might not have hurt them," Harry said soothingly. "We don't know. We just need to speak to Stonestreet."

"He's requesting entry," George said. "I'm letting him through now."

The story was recounted in short bursts to the no-nonsense man who Harry was entrusting his entire family with. Stonestreet listened with a furrowed brow and one hand tightly clenched around his wand.

"She won't get into Grimmauld Place," Stonestreet said as soon as they were done. "You're safer there than at Hogwarts, even. Go home. I've got this."

He nodded to George and disappeared with a pop.

"I'm so sorry to do this to you," Harry said, standing again and throwing his discarded robes over his shoulder.

"It's no trouble at all," Angelina said. "We just want to know you're safe. All of you."

Harry scooped Bear up from the floor.

"Stay in touch, yeah?" George said, standing too.

"Of course."

George leaned in and kissed Bear on the head, then hugged Harry tightly. Then he turned to Draco and hugged him, too.

"Take care, guys."

Harry took a pinch of green powder from the pot on the fireplace and spoke his destination, stepping easily into the flames. Draco nodded at the remaining Weasly twin, and followed.

xXx

When they arrived back at the house they found it suspiciously empty. Ron, at least, had left a note, explaining that Stonestreet had rallied his team together and was using Jamieson to attempt to break into Pansy's parent's home.

Harry performed a quick sweep of the house, firing off a series of spells to check the magical protection surrounding the house. It was secure. Even so, as he went back up to the living room he was nervous.

"Do you think she knows we know?" he asked Draco, who was sat on the floor with Bear and his blocks.

"I don't know. Maybe."

Harry sat too, absently sorting the blocks by colour. "I trust Stonestreet."

"Me too."

"And we're safe here."

Draco had pulled off the top layer of his dress robes and rolled up his shirtsleeves. Needing something to do, Harry collected up the discarded clothes and headed back upstairs to hang them up. He undressed and showered, letting the hot water calm him. Or start to calm him, at least. _We're home_, he told himself._ We're home and we're safe._

It was late, past Bear's bedtime by the time he was finished in the bathroom. It had felt like everything had happened so quickly but in truth, several hours had passed. He and Draco shared Bear's bedtime routine and on a whim Harry levitated the crib through to his and Draco's bedroom, planting it at the end of their bed.

"You know this means we can't do anything naughty tonight, right?" Draco said, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist from behind, watching Bear pull himself to standing in the crib to get a better look at his new surroundings.

"I can handle it, for one night," Harry said, turning in Draco's arms. "You should know I changed the wards. No one can get in."

"Not even..." Draco started.

"No one," Harry interrupted. "Not Ron or Hermione or Stonestreet or God himself can get in without us knowing beforehand."

Draco nodded. "I've never seen you scared before. Even during the battle you seemed so calm and composed."

"I was scared shitless," Harry laughed. "But this is different. He's our son, Draco. Seeing Pansy today with Cynthia confirmed that for me, if I even needed it. Her daughter doesn't have a daddy who wants her, but Bear has two parents who love him and each other. I don't give a fuck what anyone else has to say any more."

They undressed in silence and slipped under the cool sheets. Bear watched them curiously as Draco wrapped himself around Harry's curled body.

"Go to sleep sweetheart," he said softly.

"Duck," Bear said seriously, and laid down in his crib, facing his Daddies.

* * *

_A/N: To my most beloved regular reviewers, know this - I love you more than life itself. I'm like Tinker Bell, I'll **die** without applause.  
So, if you leave me a little review, I'll send you a little teaser for the next chapter.  
__Which, as anyone who follows me on tumblr or twitter will tell you, is not going so well right now. But it is coming. (TWSS) _


	24. One

_A/N: Tink lives! But really, thank you to everyone who responded to my desperate cry for attention.  
Anyone who follows me on twitter or tumblr will know that for some reason, this chapter kicked my ass.  
__After this past week I truly feel that there has never been a better time to be a Harry Potter fan. This community is so awesome.  
Call this my little contribution to the DHpt2 countdown - a few moments of distraction from the nausea inducing excitement?_

* * *

Chapter 24- One

Draco awoke the following morning before anyone tried to get into the house and lowered the wards to let the right people through. He left Harry sleeping as he rose and dressed, heading down to the kitchen, as was his habit.

Howlers were not able to get through to number twelve Grimmauld Place, something that had never troubled Draco particularly, but now he supposed it was due to the et dona ferentes spell. He sat at the kitchen table until an owl pecked at the kitchen window.

He removed a knut from his pocket and exchanged it from the _Prophet_ he'd ordered the day before as a one off, single order. Unsurprisingly, he found a picture of himself staring back from the front page. At least it was relatively recent; a paparazzi picture, for sure, he'd never posed for a picture on Diagon Alley to his knowledge.

He sighed heavily as he unfolded the heavy parchment and began to read.

When Harry padded down the stairs twenty minutes later Draco was attempting to prevent himself pulling his blond hair out by the roots. Harry plopped Bear down in his high chair and gave him a plastic spoon to play with, then kissed Draco on the head and gently unwound long, pale fingers from the hair that Harry had become rather fond of.

"I like it attached to your head, sweetheart," he murmured, filling a mug of coffee for himself and topping up Draco's. "Paraphrase for me? I don't know if I can stomach reading it."

"Nothing we weren't expecting," Draco sighed, folding the paper and summoning a peach from the fruit bowl to feed to Bear. "They've quoted Pansy, so I'm guessing she blabbed."

"She sold us out?" Harry exclaimed. "That bitch!"

"Well, we did steal the attention from her at her daughter's ceremony," Draco said reasonably. "I'd be mad, too."

"Not mad enough to call the _Prophet _though, surely."

"I doubt she called them," Draco said. "She just confirmed that we were together and said we make a lovely couple. Which is correct, after all."

"Howlers?" Harry asked.

"Nope. I think the spell is keeping them out."

Harry raised his eyebrows in understanding. "Oh."

It was strange, having the house back to themselves; their routine felt oddly strange, like something they'd not done for far too long a time. When another owl arrived on the windowsill Harry sighed, worried that someone had found a way around their wards and the Howlers were about to start.

Draco went to the window for him and turned back to the table with wide eyes.

"It's from the Quidditch League," he said reverently.

Harry suddenly felt very sick. "You open it," he said, shaking his head.

"No way," Draco said. "I read the paper. This one is yours."

With his heart in his throat, Harry ripped open the envelope, scanned the elegantly scrawled letter and dropped his head to the table.

"What?" Draco demanded. "What did they say?"

"They've had a bid for me," Harry mumbled. "The Tutshill Tornados want me as their First Team Seeker."

"First team?"

"Yeah," Harry confirmed, raising his head. "Oh my god, Draco."

He was pulled to his feet and into an impassioned kiss, laughing as he accepted the lips on his own.

"I knew you could do it," Draco murmured. "I'm so proud of you."

As they sank into a slower kiss the kitchen Floo roared, signalling the arrival of one of their limited visitors.

"And in front of the baby," Molly said, her hands on her hips.

"Harry just got a letter from the Quidditch League," Draco said, turning to Molly and blushing, but not letting go of Harry's hips. "The Tornados have signed him."

"I'll start with the new season, in August," Harry added.

"Oh Harry," she said, pulling him into a hug of her own. "That's fantastic." Then she slapped him lightly on the cheek. "And that's for the front page of the _Prophet._"

"It's not my fault!" Harry exclaimed as Draco sniggered.

Molly lifted Bear out from his high chair and carried him to the sink for a cloth to clean off his face. "You should know better than to flaunt yourselves in public like that," she said. "And with poor Bear there to witness it all."

Before Harry could respond the Floor roared again and Jamieson stumbled through. She looked awful; dark circles lined her eyes and she looked like she hadn't changed or showered since they'd left for the party the previous afternoon.

"Hey guys," she said. "Coffee? Please?"

Molly bounced the baby to her other hip and started to mix milk and sugar and hot, strong coffee. "Here, sit," Molly instructed. "You look terrible, darling, what's going on?"

"We couldn't get her, guys," Jamieson said, looking guiltily from Harry to Draco. "We just don't have enough evidence."

The jubilance of Harry's news gave way to an oppressive silence.

"Who?" Molly demanded. "You found out who was after Bear?"

"Lady Yaxley," Harry said, shaking his head.

"We thought she was dead," Draco added. "But she's not dead. She has been living with her ancient parents in Northern Ireland."

"Belfast," Jamieson said. "But it's not illegal for a woman to disappear, especially with the circumstances. A lot of people are still missing."

"And so are a lot of children!" Molly exclaimed.

"We're working on it," Jamieson said. She sipped her coffee, looking like she was on the verge of tears. "I've been sent back to give you an update. Stonestreet doesn't want to tip her off that we're looking at her. Apparently your friend Parkinson told everyone at the party last night that you were running away from the press, so at least our cover hasn't been blown."

"I can't believe you didn't get her," Draco said, sinking down into a chair.

"You're looking at this the wrong way," Jamieson said, running her hand through her light brown hair. She grimaced at the state of it and rubbed her tired eyes. "We've got a lead now. A good lead. We can start tracing everything we have back to her."

"And you're all going to work yourself into exhaustion to do it?" Molly asked.

Jamieson shook her head. "We've swapped shifts now. I was told to come and update you then I can go..."

"Sleep," Molly demanded. "I'll stay in contact with Ron. You go."

"Thanks, Mrs Weasley," Jamieson said gratefully. She stood and headed back to the Floo. "We'll keep you updated, you know we will."

"Of course," Draco said, ushering her to the fireplace. He bid her goodbye and turned back to Harry. "I can't believe they didn't get her."

Harry opened his arms and Draco fell into them. Watching, and bouncing Bear on her hip, Molly took in the sight of her eighth child and the man he loved.

"Come here," Harry said as they broke apart, reaching out for Bear. "We should get you dressed."

Bear stretched out his arms and fell into Harry's.

"I'm sorry to have come over at such a bad time," Molly said. She kissed Bear on the head and let Harry take him. "You shouldn't have to hide."

"And people are going to think it's about the bloody _Prophet_," Draco groaned.

"I'm not ashamed to be with you," Harry said frankly. "Let them say what they like. Or write what they like. We've got more important things to deal with."

xXx

As the days passed, the team became more certain that Lady Yaxley had no idea they were looking at her regarding the attacks on Draco and Grimmauld Place, and the disappearances of the magical children. Her reappearance at the Parkinson's party had made waves in pureblood society, according to Pansy who seemed to have reappeared in Draco's life, much to Harry's chagrin.

Jamieson had gone undercover. Despite her presence on the Auror squad, she was still a Slytherin and her parents owned a series of apothecaries around Europe. Her pureblood breeding assured her a place at lunch with several of her old schoolmates, gently accumulating information which could be passed back to her boss.

Stonestreet, for all his work on the case, had been working alongside Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic himself to try and make further progress. Opinions were divided on how much Draco and Harry should expose themselves to the outside world. In the end, in a fit of exasperation, Harry packed up Bear and dragged Draco to the Three Broomsticks Floo.

They only went as far as Florean Fortesque's for ice cream and walked back up Diagon Alley hand in hand, studiously ignoring the stares of passersby, some of whom walked into lampposts or other shoppers in their open- mouthed gaping at the wizarding world's newest hot couple.

Back at the house, Draco collapsed onto the sofa.

"Fucking hell," he groaned.

"Language!" Harry scolded. He set Bear down on the floor and levitated anything vaguely dangerous three feet in the air so the baby could play without any risk of getting hurt. Every day Bear got closer to walking, instead of the speed- crawling he'd developed in the previous months, Draco claimed he was just too lazy to actually get to walking.

"That was a nightmare," Draco said as Harry joined him on the sofa for a kiss.

"Mm," Harry agreed with his lips pressed to the column of Draco's throat. "But we were going to have to do it sooner or later."

Draco pouted; Harry kissed his bottom lip.

"Isn't it nice to be out though?" Harry asked.

"I've been out since I was fourteen," Draco said. "Well, to those paying attention, anyway."

Harry sat back against the cushions and pulled Draco onto his lap, running his fingers gently through the other man's hair. Bear sped past on the floor and Draco pulled out his wand to levitate a X out of his way.

"It'll be all over the papers in the morning."

"Again."

"Yeah," Harry sighed.

"That's what happens when you save the lives of thousands of people," Draco said softly. "People tend to care about what happens to you."

"They're not going to like us being together."

"That goes without saying."

Harry sighed. Bear crawled over to the sofa, grabbing hold of the edge and pulling himself to his feet.

"Come on," Draco said, grabbing the little boy under his arms and pulling him up to join their cuddle.

"We need to make him ours, properly," Harry said as Draco bounced Bear on his knees.

"When this is all over we'll start fighting with the Ministry."

"We shouldn't have to fight the Ministry."

"Don't worry," Draco said, tilting his head back for a kiss. "I've got plenty of experience in trying to overthrow an authoritarian government. Just follow my lead."

"Kingsley is not an authoritarian government," Harry said and poked Draco hard in the ribs.

"Joking," Draco said. He giggled and squirmed, causing Bear to giggle and squirm too. "Whatever it takes though, he's worth it, right?"

"Of course he is. Whatever it takes. He's ours, now."

xXx

On the twenty second of April, it was raining.

Bear woke up not knowing the importance of the date, not knowing much at all beyond the face of the blond haired man who leaned over the side of his crib to lift him up and out, to dress him in soft blue jeans and a jumper with a fluttering golden snitch on it.

Bear liked snitches. His daddy had one.

Draco had agreed to watch Bear for the morning while Harry helped with the decorations and preparations at The Burrow. For what Harry had assumed was such a small, intimate circle of friends, they were expecting a lot of people.

"Charlie!" Harry exclaimed as the second eldest Weasley brother appeared in the Floo. "I wasn't expecting you to come."

"I wouldn't miss it," Charlie said. He took the packet of wizarding balloons, Weasley branded, naturally, and started to help inflating them. "How's it going? I heard you and Draco got outed by the _Prophet._"

"Don't ask," Harry said. "They've been running articles practically daily. Most of it us utter crap, of course. They managed to dig up old pictures from a Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch match from fifth year and Rita Skeeter is writing about 'unresolved sexual tension' from our schooldays."

To his credit, Charlie laughed uproariously. "God help us all. So where is your boyfriend?"

"Home," Harry said. "With Bear. Everyone is coming over later."

"How's the case going?"

Harry shrugged. "It's complicated. They've got someone tailing us constantly when we're not in the house. It would be so easy to just hide away and let it happen around us, but no one knows how long it's going to take to resolve this thing."

By the time the rest of the party arrived the small house had been transformed into a glittering blue and silver grotto. Due to the rain Charlie, George and Bill had taken charge of erecting a smaller, dark blue marquee in the garden that linked to the house by the kitchen door. With a few warming charms and the soft glow of gentle bubbles of light floating around inside it was as welcoming as the rest of the Weasley house.

Harry was more than touched when groups of his and Draco's old school friends started to arrive; first Ginny, who was dating Dean Thomas again, Luna, Seamus, then Neville and Ron who came with Hermione, who barrelled into Harry and almost knocked him down with a hug.

Then Blaise and Pansy arrived with baby Cynthia.

"He's too young to remember this," Draco protested as George snapped another round of photographs, making sure to include everyone from each part of the family.

"It doesn't matter," George said. "He's got these pictures to look back on for the rest of his life."

George was still taking photographs when the lights dimmed and Molly carried through a huge chocolate cake with one candle glowing from the middle. Harry allowed Draco to pull him back against his chest as their friends, their _family_ sang happy birthday, then they shared the task of helping blow out the candle.

When Harry leaned in to kiss Draco's lips, just once, then got caught into kissing him again because he couldn't help himself, George snapped just one more picture.

Bear started to fuss as the evening progressed, the result of too much cake, too much fuss, and so many people in such a small space. Hermione lifted the baby from Draco's arms and carried him up to Ron's old bedroom.

"Right then!" Bill yelled, clapping his hands. "The baby's asleep - it's time. We're playing. Who's in?"

"Playing what?" Draco asked as the others groaned.

"The, uh, First Annual Bear's Birthday Pre- Hogwarts Alumni/ Phoenix Orphanage Tournament Weasley Quidditch Match."

"Bullshit," Draco laughed.

"Sounded good though, right?" Bill said with a wink. "Me and Draco are team captains. Line up."

"But 'av you seen ze rain?" Fleur complained as George jostled her into position in front of the stove in the kitchen. "It ees raining cats and mice."

"Cats and dogs, love," Charlie said to her as George sighed: "Yeah. Gorgeous, isn't it. Lovely weather for Quidditch."

"Got a knut, mate?" Bill asked and Draco rolled his eyes as he fished one out of his pocket. "Heads or tails?"

"Heads," Draco said.

Bill flipped the coin, caught it in his hand and slapped it on the kitchen table. It landed tails.

"Ha!" Bill exclaimed. "Harry mate, line up. Seeker."

Draco rolled his shoulders, cricked his neck either side and shot Bill a sidelong glance. "Fleur."

The assembled crowd 'oohed' and 'aahed' at his brave choice. Bill laughed. The line in the sand had clearly been drawn: neither man was going to play nice. It was a shame Draco didn't appreciate the soft kiss Fleur dropped on his cheek as she took his left side.

"George," Bill declared.

Snorting, Draco shook his head. "You really don't know how to play this game, Weasley. Wea- wait. Calling 'Weasley' in this room clearly won't work. Ron."

Ron looked confused but joined Draco's team.

"Gin," Bill said. "I need some Chasers."

"You need more than that," Draco muttered, teasing good naturedly as he watched Ginny line up. "Charlie."

"Finnigan. Chaser."

"Thomas. Chaser."

More 'oohs' from the crowd, which was admittedly thinning as the teams were cast, as Draco pitched Dean against his best friend _and_ girlfriend. Dean seemed to take being put on Draco's team in his stride, slapping his former house rival on the back as he lined up next to Fleur.

"Two Chasers on each team rather than three, right?" Bill asked as he surveyed who was left.

"Mhmm," Draco agreed.

Bill shook his head. "Better the devil you know. Angelina."

"But what position will you play her in, Weasley?" Draco asked. "Blaise. Beater."

"What position are you playing?" Bill returned the banter. "Sticking Charlie as a Beater is practically sacrilege."

"Who said he's playing Beater?" Draco asked. "I'm playing with Blaise. Charlie's my Seeker."

Looking down the lines, it was clear that Draco had the edge, had planned ahead in his selection, had probably anticipated Bill's choices in advance, too. The team of Fleur and Dean as Chasers was unknown, for sure, but he had Ron as his Keeper and Charlie as a Seeker.

Whereas on Bill's team... Ginny and Seamus hadn't played together before either. Neither had George and Angelina as Beaters, and Bill was forced out of position to play Keeper.

Bill frowned. "Remind me never to play chess with you," he grumbled as they headed out to the shed for brooms.

xXx

Draco's team won, by what Bill insisted was a narrow margin, and due to Beginner's Luck. In all honesty, those who watched the game were equally divided as to who was the better team; what Draco's team lacked in consistency they made up for in aggression, although it was somewhat inevitable that the all- Gryffindor side pulled together more cohesively as a team.

When Charlie swooped in to snatch the snitch, Bill's team were leading by a hundred and twenty points on goal difference. It was, according to those on the ground, Harry's distraction at Draco's bat wielding skills that prevented him from noticing that it was no Wronski Feint that Charlie was performing but an actual dive for the game end-er.

Harry couldn't say he minded losing so much. It was fun to play with friends, where the light-hearted banter and blatant cheating were as much part of the game as the score.

They arrived home late in the evening; cold, wet, full of cake with a grumpy baby who needed a bath. Harry left Draco in charge of arranging something for them to eat for dinner; his only instruction was that it should probably contain some kind of vegetable to make up for all the sugar they'd consumed over the afternoon.

Draco created some kind of vegetable and lentil stew that Harry had severe reservations about until his fork hit his tongue, at which point he vowed never to cook ever again.

"Told you cooking was like potions," he said around a mouthful of food. "Told you so."

"Shut up," Draco said, and flicked a chickpea at him.

They shared the putting Bear to bed routine, then Draco dragged himself off for a shower while Harry was left with the unappetising job of putting clean clothes away. He soon bored of the task, and decided to join Draco in the bathroom instead.

"What is it with you and shower sex?" Draco murmured as Harry slid in behind him, wrapping strong arms around his waist and pressing palms flat against his chest. "Do you have a thing?"

"A thing?" Harry repeated.

"You know. A _kink_."

Harry laughed. "No. I don't think so."

He pressed his lips into the juncture of Draco's neck and shoulder and lapped at the wet skin, running his hands up and down Draco's sides.

"Well, your words say one thing, but your actions say the opposite," Draco teased, turning in Harry's arms.

"You just look so... mmm... when you're wet," Harry mumbled.

Draco threw his head back and laughed. Harry didn't mind; he found a new spot on Draco's throat to kiss. With gentle fingertips, Draco ran his hands over the dampening expanse of Harry's back and shoulders.

With their bodies pressed tightly together under the warm water, Harry rest his head on Draco's shoulder and just let himself _feel_ for a few moments. The arms around his waist, the soft breaths on his neck, the gentle exploration of his body that for the first time in his life, he didn't feel self conscious about.

"You're so beautiful," Harry said softly as he played with the hair at the nape of Draco's neck.

"I'm not," Draco replied.

Harry lifted his head and brushed the water from Draco's face. "You're beautiful to me," he said, challenging Draco to defy him. "You're beautiful in places only I ever get to see."

Draco blinked a few times, then smiled, then leaned in to kiss Harry, achingly slowly. Harry relaxed into the warm, familiar feel of another man's lips on his own, marvelling at simply how right this was, wondering, not for the first time, how he'd never considered this before.

The hard muscles and flat torso was perfect as it pressed against his own; the soft smattering of hairs were perfect and erotic, as was the scruff on Draco's jaw that he shaved daily with a Muggle cutthroat razor instead of the haphazard spell Harry used. It was rarely as effective.

He felt, sometimes, like that old Greek myth of a man who fell in love with his own reflection, and while looking at himself in a river, fell in and drowned. That was his entire relationship with Draco; falling in and trying not to drown. Sometimes he let himself be pulled under and just enjoyed it. Being lost in another man. Being lost in _Draco._

In his reverie, Draco had said something but he'd missed it.

"Hmm?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"No, go on, I was just thinking."

"I asked you," Draco said haughtily, "If you would make love to me."

"Here?"

"No not here, you arse," Draco said and hit him on the arse to make his point. "In our bed like normal people who don't have a shower kink."

"I don't have a shower kink," Harry protested. "I have a Draco Malfoy kink."

The ferocity of Draco's kiss, and the way his body responded to it, was not a surprise to Harry. The erection growing against his own as their tongues slipped against each other... it fit. It made sense. Draco pulled them from the bathroom, dried them both with a charm and lead him through to the bedroom stark bollock naked. It was one of the highlights of having the house back to themselves again.

They resumed their kissing on the bed, legs tangled together with no one quite ready to decide tops and bottoms just yet.

"You know I love you, right?" Harry said, pulling back so he could look at Draco properly.

"Yeah."

"Because I do. I might not say it all that often, but I'm crazy in love with you."

Draco smiled slowly and the hand on Harry's hip tightened. He leaned in and kissed Harry's shoulder.

"I've felt that way about you for a long time."

"How long?" Harry pressed, knowing that they'd only brushed over the surface of this before.

With Draco's groan, he knew he'd hit a sore point. "Really, Harry?"

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Draco flopped onto his back and encouraged Harry's head on to his shoulder. "Since we were... I don't know. Fourteen?"

"Fourth year?"

"Yeah. Something like that."

"You were awful to me in fourth year," Harry grumbled. Draco huffed a laugh and pressed his lips to Harry's hair. "Potter stinks badges?"

"I wanted you to notice me," Draco admitted. "You were so busy, constantly running from one thing to another with the Triwizard Tournament. I was dealing with the fact that I was gay... or not dealing with it, I suppose. If I wasn't awful to you, you wouldn't have noticed me at all. Having you hate me every day was better than just fading into the background where I didn't matter."

"I wish I could say that I felt the same way about you."

"I know you didn't, and that's okay. You love me now."

Harry could hear the smile in Draco's voice and tilted his head for another slow kiss. Draco was already on his back, so it was easy for Harry to shift until he was lying on top, his forearms braced on the pillows.

"This okay?" he asked against Draco's lips. Draco hummed his assent.

"Inside me, please," Draco murmured.

Smiling slowly, Harry reached fro the tin of waxy lubricant and pressed his index finger against Draco's opening, waiting for the other man's body to accept him in. Draco's eyes were screwed shut and he was frowning slightly, but his hips rocked into the movement of Harry's fingers, belying his arousal.

With the lubricant spread liberally over his own cock, Harry pulled his fingers out of Draco and quickly replaced them with his cock. Draco groaned, low in his throat as Harry pressed in deep. Their kisses were slow, deepening the intensity of their lovemaking as they rocked together.

Draco locked his ankles around Harry's lower back, opening himself up to the movement of their bodies. Their foreheads pressed together, breaths coming in shallow gasps now as they found the rhythm that was instinctual to them both.

"Wow," Harry whispered, making Draco laugh breathlessly.

"Oh yeah. God, Harry..."

Harry waited for Draco to come first, crying out over and over, before he came too, holding his breath to make the waves of pleasure last.

"I love you," he mumbled into the delicate arch of Draco's neck. "I love you."

* * *

_A/N: And because I'm feeling all warm and fluffy inside right now, I'll do teasers- for- reviews again. (Love you all)._


	25. I'm Sane But I'm Overwhelmed

_A/N: Well, did you cry? I cried. A lot. Apologies to those who haven't seen the film yet, but I just have to say:_

_"Yes, Mr Finnigan. BOOM."_

_I've got a new person on the (admittedly small) EDF team, Ines, who's blog alightatthetopofthestairs[dot]tumblr[dot]com is undoubtedly one of the greatest sources of Drarry related entertainment out there. She's been fantastic at lifting my spirits all the way through writing this story and it's lovely to get to do this with her. Oh - apologies to those who reviewed in the past few days and I haven't replied to. I've been in mourning._

* * *

Chapter 25- I'm Sane But I'm Overwhelmed

When a flurry of owls and Patronuses started to descend on the house, combined with a flutter of intuition in Harry's chest, he decided something might finally be happening. Still, he didn't tell Draco who was more than slightly irritable with the prospect of his final NEWT exams on the horizon.

While Jamieson had made extraordinary strides in finding out more about Lady Yaxley's movements, any sign of concluding the missing children case was still far off. And in the meantime the _Prophet _had been having a veritable field day in writing all manner of bizarre, defamatory and quite simply untrue articles regarding the nature of Harry's relationship.

He decided not to disrupt Draco's revision and settled back in the living room with a book, keeping a sharp eye on Bear who was chasing a fleet of toy cars through a building block metropolis. The notes, when they came, were mostly to 'stay put' or 'check the wards'; nothing unusual, but still. Harry had developed a rather good gut instinct over the years. And his gut, now, was telling him to stay vigilant.

So when Draco Apparated in the doorway he just about jumped out of his skin.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered. Bear applauded.

"I want one of those disgusting orange things out of the silver boxes," Draco announced.

"An Indian takeaway?" Harry supplied.

"Yeah. That's the one."

"We can't," Harry said, and intercepted Draco's protest quickly. "I've had a message from Ron not to go out."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. He won't tell me."

"Then Weasley can sod off," Draco muttered. "I want my disgusting orange thing. With rice. And bread."

"It's called a chicken tikka masala."

Draco crossed to Bear and slumped on the floor, carefully rebuilding a tower of blocks that had been knocked over in the course of some overenthusiastic playing. The problem with blocks was that there was no easy spell to just reassemble them. Each one had to be levitated back in place, which was annoying. Still.

"Can't you contact him and ask him what's going on?" Draco said.

Harry allowed himself a moment to collect his frustration before responding. "No. If they're undercover it could give away their position."

"Well, then, someone else on the squad."

"I don't know who's doing what or where. It's too risky."

"But I want to go out."

"Then go out!" Harry exploded. "But don't blame me if something goes wrong."

"What's going to go wrong?" Draco demanded.

"I don't know! Just stop being such a bloody prick about it all."

"What crawled up your ass?"

"Forget it," Harry said and stormed from the room.

He didn't want to go to their room, or to the kitchen, or anywhere else that he associated with his boyfriend. The problem was, after spending nearly a year living together, nearly the entire house reminded him of Draco. The kitchen was the hub of most of their daytime activities. The basement was solely Draco's domain. He wouldn't even know about the garden if it weren't for Draco. Draco, Draco, Draco.

In the end he let himself into the never- used ground floor dining room, Scourgified the surface of the dark wood table and set several vacuuming charms to bump around collecting dust. Then he climbed up onto the table and laid on his back, looking up at friezes of cherubs and a crystal chandelier.

Which was where Draco found him not half an hour later.

"What are you doing in here?"

"Hiding from you. Where's Bear?"

"In his playpen. I brought the conspectus charm with me."

He had. It bobbed into the room and hovered perfectly still in stark contrast to the orange vacuuming charms, which still whizzed around enthusiastically. Draco hesitated for a moment, then climbed up onto the table and laid down next to Harry.

"Why are you hiding from me?" Draco whispered.

"Because you were being whiny child." With his arms folded across his chest, Harry flicked his wand, opening the window to expel his dust- laden charms. The sound of them exploding in the sunlight carried back through the window, sounding like burst balloons.

"I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

Harry tilted his head to the side, frowning, and examined the left side of Draco's head. He was sure it was Draco. Wasn't he?

It was a terrifying thought, but one that hit him hard, sending bile to his throat. Before he could give them chance to react he was on his knees, his wand pressed to the other's throat.

"Where were we when Hermione slapped you in the face in third year?" he demanded.

"What are you talking about?" Draco asked, attempting to scramble back from the furious expression.

"Where were we?" Harry repeated.

"In the entrance hall, weren't we? Just by the steps to the dungeons."

Harry sat back on his heels and lowered his wand. He was still frowning.

"Did you think I was an imposter?" Draco asked, humour lacing the incredulity in his voice.

"Constant vigilance," Harry muttered.

Sitting up, Draco leaned forward too and pressed a quick kiss to Harry's mouth. "_Expecto patronum_," he murmured, his elegant silver magpie soaring up and through the ceiling. "Is that proof enough for you?"

"It's a start," Harry said, smiling against his will.

"Am I really acting that strange?" Draco asked, still teasing.

"You apologised."

Draco snorted with laughter, tried to hide it, then collapsed in giggles. "It has been known to happen," he said. "Will you tell me what's going on now?"

"I don't know," Harry said again. "But I think they've made a breakthrough on the case."

"How do you know that?"

"I don't. I just have a feeling." He laced his fingers with Draco's and swung his legs off the edge of the table, then leaned in to rest his head on Draco's shoulder. "I'll buy you a takeaway tomorrow night? If everything is okay?"

"Okay," Draco agreed. "How tight is the security right now?"

"Very."

"Good."

The swarm of Patronuses with increasingly brief, demanding messages continued late into the night. Long after Bear had been put to bed with the music box, Tonks singing to her son about one hand in her pocket, and the other giving a peace sign. Harry took this as a sign the mothers on the other side were keeping a close watch tonight.

Finally, at one o' clock in the morning, the wards pulsed, requesting the approval of Neville Longbottom's magical signature. Harry let it pass. Soon after Neville Apparated into the living room.

He looked simultaneously exhausted and buzzing with adrenaline.

"We've got her," he said.

"Yeah?" Draco asked. "Are you sure?"

"Caught her in the act," Neville confirmed. "She was trying to buy a baby on the black market. We also got an underground child smuggling ring in the process."

"Oh my god," Harry murmured. "Are they safe? Where are the children?"

"All alive," Neville confirmed. "Every last one of them. They've been taken to the Phoenix overnight."

"How many did she have?" Draco asked.

Sinking into one of the armchairs, Neville rubbed at tired eyes with his fists. "Eight. Tonight was to be her ninth. We're not out of the woods yet, guys, we need to make sure she didn't have accomplices, or anyone else looking at Bear. We took her down about three hours ago and they're still looking through the rooms she lived in at her parent's place. But from what we have so far, we look clear."

"You should get some rest," Harry said gently.

Neville looked up, his face painted with disdain. "No way. This is the biggest case to come out of the post- war Auror department, and we're on the front line. It'll probably still be going on in the morning, then we have to do the press conference."

"But the children are safe?" Draco reiterated.

Neville nodded. "Yeah. She was doing… shit, I don't even know if I'm supposed to tell you this. Fuck it. She was trying to find the source of power in certain magical children. Muggle borns as well as very powerful magical children… comparing the source of their magic."

"Did she hurt them?" Draco asked.

"Not intentionally," Neville said gently. "But she probably did. They just need some love and care, now."

"I'll go down to the orphanage in the morning," Draco said, stretching. "They'll need as many extra pairs of hands as they can get."

"Sounds good," Neville agreed. "I need to go. They're going to need all hands on deck."

"Thanks for coming over," Draco said as he stood.

"Any time."

The sense of fear, combined with an acute sense of relief carried Harry up to bed and kept him lying there, waiting for something to happen. It was like this for him the first night after they'd left Hogwarts; bone achingly tired, he'd slept on the floor of the Weasley's living room with the rest of the family. He was back to back with George that night, not that either of them had ever mentioned it. Neither could sleep, but the arch of someone else's spine fitted against his own was comforting.

Ginny had slept on the other side of the room.

"You're not sleeping," Draco murmured from behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist and tangling his fingers in the light dusting of hairs on his stomach.

"No. I can't switch off."

Draco hummed lightly, his lips pressed to Harry's shoulder. "Would it help if I brought Bear in?"

"No," Harry said. He rolled over to face Draco. "But thank you for offering."

He was quiet for long moments, absorbing the sounds of the city outside and the gentle, rhythmical breathing of the man next to him.

"You should sleep, though," Harry said softly.

"I never used to sleep properly anyway. I don't mind."

"Hold me tonight?" Harry whispered, showing the rare, raw, incredibly vulnerable side he usually kept so well hidden.

"Not ever letting go," Draco promised.

xXx

_Daily Prophet_ Edition from 25th April 1998

_Speaking from a news conference this morning, Minister Shacklebolt addressed the dramatic arrests made by the Auror department last night._

"_It is with great pleasure I am able to announce this morning the arrest of Lady Odile Yaxley," Minister Shakelbolt said. "The Auror department has been working for several months on a complex and layered case involving the disappearances of, and threats to magical children. At this time we are confident that we have caught the perpetrator of these crimes and at the same time brought down an underground, illegal child smuggling ring."_

_The arrest of Odile Yaxley has caused waves through pureblood high society, not least due to the fact that many of her peers believed her to be dead. _

_The young Honourable Odile McQuillen was born and raised just outside Belfast and was betrothed to George Yaxley, twelve years her senior, at the age of five. They married two weeks after her sixteenth birthday and their union produced no children. Lord Yaxley was killed by falling debris at the Battle of Hogwarts after being stunned and disarmed by George Weasley, whose twin brother was later killed by Death Eaters. During the confusion of the final battle and the following weeks, Lady Yaxley disappeared and was presumed dead. It has now emerged that she escaped to her parents estate with at least four children that she had already snatched. _

_Over the past year she has collected a further four children, two of whom are at St Mungo's hospital, the other six are at the Phoenix Orphanage. All are alive and seemingly healthy, although they are all under close observation. _

_As the investigation into the missing children developed, Auror Stonestreet's team discovered links from Lady Yaxley to the unusual curses cast upon Andromeda Tonks and Draco Malfoy, both of whom required emergency treatment at the hands of Healers in order to survive the attacks. Mrs Tonks spent over eight months in a coma while her body recovered. The _Prophet_ has learned that neither Mrs Tonks, nor Malfoy were the intended targets; Lady Yaxley was intent on kidnapping another infant, Teddy Lupin. Teddy, whose parents were also killed at the final Battle at Hogwarts, has been living with Malfoy and Harry Potter since the attack on Tonks, his maternal grandmother. Teddy's mother, Nymphadora, was a powerful and talented Metamorphmagus whose talents were passed on to her son. As a second generation Metamorphmagus, Healers expect the child to be even more skilled than his mother. After Mrs Tonks was moved to St Mungo's the attacks continued on Potter's London residence and it was from these that the Auror team were able to trace a magical signature back to Lady Yaxley. _

_Today signals a new era for the parental double team of Potter and Malfoy, who have been raising their surrogate son in secret for fear that the then-unknown assailant would discover their location. Further details are expected to emerge over the coming days and weeks as to the extent of the child smuggling ring, the details of which Minister Shacklebolt has been reluctant to discuss at this time._

_It is also a chance for us to remind _Prophet_ readers again of the invaluable, essential work of the Phoenix Orphanage who have overnight taken on six new children. In addition to sponsoring one of the teams in the Hogwarts Alumni Quidditch Tournament (for full details of team listings, see page 27), donations can be made directly to the orphanage itself. First rounds of the Tournament will take place at the end of the regular Quidditch season; watch this space for match timetables. _

xXx

While the team suffered through a mountainous pile of paperwork and ongoing interviews and arrests, Draco lead the charge in rounding up volunteers to take down to the orphanage. Molly had agreed to take Bear for the day and was furiously baking cakes and treats to distribute between the children and the team (who had now relocated back to the Ministry).

George and Angelina had answered the call for help, as had Niko and several of the Blackhawks team, including Jenny and Lee Jordan. The orphanage was, understandably, in a state of pandemonium.

Newspaper sources were clamouring for interviews and information on the children who had been rescued, Healers were attempting to assess any physical, mental or magical damage to each of the eight children and normal life was supposed to run for the children who already lived there. On top of that, Neville and Jamieson were trying to coax testimonies out of the children who were old enough to talk… although only two of them seemed capable of doing so.

Communication between the orphanage, the Order, the Auror team and Harry and Draco was facilitated by the fact that there was at least one Weasley at each point. The relationship between Percy and the rest of his family was still slightly strained but there was no denying that his work at the orphanage was invaluable.

Harry, in a fit of exasperation rounded up several of the older children and took them out to the playground and started up a game of completely non- magical dodgeball. Draco joined the screaming rabble after a little while with one of the toddlers in his arms.

"How's it going in there?" Harry asked.

"Mental," Draco said, quirking a smile. "I don't think it's going to calm down any time soon, either."

"Who's this?"

"This," Draco said, bouncing the little boy, "is Titan Noble."

Titan regarded Harry with big, chocolate brown eyes and his thumb firmly lodged in his mouth, blinking slowly in the sunlight.

"What will happen to him?" Harry asked quietly.

"Who knows," Draco shrugged. "Hopefully it'll be easier to have the younger ones adopted, especially with all the press."

"There are already so many of them waiting for families," Harry sighed.

"We're not taking any more in, before you even think of it," Draco said. Harry got the impression he was only half joking. "This one is just very skittish. He doesn't like being put down."

"What about last night?"

"Someone didn't get much sleep at all," Draco said wryly.

"At least we weren't the only ones." Harry turned away to referee the exchange of players on the dodgeball team, then turned back to Draco. "Was he..."

"Yeah. One of hers."

"And his mother?"

"Was Gaia Noble. A childhood friend of my mother's."

"I recognise the name, but I don't know where from."

"He must have been the first one she took," Draco said. "From what I can figure out, anyway. It would have made sense for Lady Yaxley to have taken him, she was close friends with Mrs Noble. She was possibly even his godmother. I can't remember now."

The little boy sniffled and turned away from Harry, burying his face in Draco's neck. Draco rocked him with a purely instinctive rhythm, one that Harry had watched night after night when he'd comforted Bear. He wanted to reach out and take Draco's hand, to squeeze it in reassurance, but both his arms were full of child.

Jenny stuck her head out of the back door and winked at Harry before she screamed.

"Kids! Food!"

Harry laughed as the game was promptly abandoned and the children swarmed towards the house.

"I'll take that to mean that Molly has sent the treats over with Percy."

"You go on in," Draco said. "I'm going to stay out here with Titan for a bit."

"Okay." Harry kissed Draco quickly on the cheek then followed the children, not looking back to see the reaction to his rather public display of affection.

Back inside, the orphanage was still in a state of mad disorganisation. Harry had spent a few free weekends with Draco there so he knew most of the staff and regular volunteers. He was also, fortunately, good friends with quite a few members of the Auror department.

The huge kitchen was the hub of most activity that happened at the house. The wide window looked out over the back garden and playground and the terracotta tiled windowsill was jammed full of pots of herbs, creating a leafy framework. The cupboard doors were painted a vibrant red and the cooking area was separated from little fingers by a wooden gate, painted the same colour as the rest of the kitchen. It was behind this that Jenny stood, serving up chocolate rice crispy cakes and fairy cakes, and thick slices of millionaire's shortbread. Harry hopped over the gate, planted a wet kiss on Jenny's cheek and stole a slice of shortbread.

"Hey!" she scolded him.

"Thanks, Jenny," he sang and, to the amusement of the assembled children, jumped back over the gate and ran off through the house.

It was as opposite to the dark oppressiveness of Grimmauld Place as it could possibly be, the Phoenix Orphanage. It, too, was Victorian and therefore dominated by high ceilings and a grand, sweeping staircase. But this was a house for children, designed around children, and had children constantly swarming through it. The walls were light and bright, the windows large and every surface designed for safety or comfort. Attached to the kitchen was a dining room, one once used to entertain the cream of high society and therefore large enough to feed fourteen hungry mouths. Next to the dining room was a library, or a 'reading and homework room', and next to that was the Quiet Room.

On the opposite side of the hall, next to the front door was Percy's office, and it was to here that Harry was headed. He knocked – Percy's door was shut – and waited to be allowed in.

"There's cake in the kitchen," Harry said. "If you didn't know."

"I did," Percy said without looking up. He gestured to the chair opposite his desk as he finished scrawling on a piece of parchment, then tossed down his quill with a sigh. "Sorry, Harry. Busy times."

"More exciting than cauldron bottoms?" Harry teased, then took a bite of his shortbread, the caramel briefly gluing his teeth together.

"Much more," Percy agreed. "Don't get crumbs on my carpet. How can I help you?"

"I just wanted to see what was going on, really," Harry said, aware of how sad he sounded even as the words left his mouth. "Where will the children go?"

"We'll make room for them," Percy sighed. "Although it'll be a challenge. We're packed to capacity now."

"What do you need?" Harry pressed. "Money? A bigger house?"

"More people wanting to adopt magical children," Percy said wryly. "I've got meetings booked with Minister Shacklebolt to discuss the possibility of them being adopted by Muggles."

"Oh," Harry said, sitting back, surprised. "Wow. I didn't realise it was that bad."

"Some of these children have been here for over a year," Percy said. "And we look after them well, I know that. But they deserve families, proper, permanent families with mums and dads…"

"Or two mums. Or two dads," Harry said, bristling for an argument.

"Unfortunately two mums or two dads aren't allowed to adopt," Percy said evenly.

"And if they were?" Harry said. "You'd be able to place a lot more children that way."

"This isn't a political platform for change, or gay rights," Percy said. "I'm not saying I disagree with you, I'm just saying it's not my fight."

Harry shook his head. "It's not right."

"I know, Harry. Do you and Draco want to adopt one of them?"

"No," he reluctantly admitted.

"Well then."

"We can't even adopt Bear."

Percy smiled. "You will. One day. Now get out of my office. I have work to do."

He was indignant as he left Percy's office, enough that he hovered in the hallway for a few moments while his rational and impulsive urges battled each other.

Harry had always been an impulsive person. He had been told for years that it was going to get him in trouble one day.

"Alright, Harry?" George asked as he passed in the hall.

"Yeah. George… would you tell Draco I'll meet him at home?"

"Of course."

"Come for dinner," Harry called as he headed for the Quiet Room and it's dangerous connecting Floo.

The office was busy, but Harry soon found his way to the right department and the receptionist that guarded the inner sanctum like a dragon. A pretty, curly haired dragon with a slight lisp and a run in her tights.

"She'll see me," Harry insisted.

"But Mr Potter," the young girl stuttered. "You don't have an appointment. Ms Skeeter has said no interruptions, not for the Minister or God himself."

"I'm more important than both," Harry said, smirking slightly. "Come on…"

"Polly," she supplied.

"Come on, Polly. At least let her know that I'm here?" He shot her what he hoped was a winning smile.

Polly withered. "She's going to shout at me," she whispered.

Harry suppressed a smile. "If you do it," he whispered back. "I'll go and buy you a cake."

At that, Polly laughed; a breathless, hopeless release. "Okay," she agreed. "But I want a red velvet cupcake from Walthamstow's."

"I can do that."

Standing, Polly brushed off her skirt.

"Wish me luck, Mr Potter," she said briskly and strode through to the back office.

Rita Skeeter did, in fact, shout at her young receptionist. Harry silently promised himself that he'd buy the misfortunate Polly an entire box of cupcakes from Walthamstow's. Just as soon as he figured out where Walthamstow's was.

"Harry, what a pleasant surprise," Rita said sweetly as she appeared in the doorway to her office. "Please, come on through."

The walls of Rita's office were sweetly, luridly pink, reminding Harry with a swooping feeling in his stomach of being transported back in time to Umbridge's office. The chairs were upholstered in fluffy zebra print fabric and the desk, oh lord, the desk, was made of what looked like green wood. How she ever got any work done was completely beyond Harry.

"I have a proposition for you," Harry said as he sat.

"Really," Rita said, smirking to herself.

"I'm looking for… a platform, shall we say," Harry said. "To voice certain possibly unpopular political opinions."

Rita rolled her eyes. "I'm not a fan of politics," she said. "I much prefer a scandal."

"This is probably both," Harry admitted.

"Excellent. Do go on."

"You're aware of my relationship with Draco. You've written several scathing articles on the matter, I've heard."

"So sad you haven't read them."

"Couldn't even force me to," Harry said pleasantly. "You also know that we're raising a child together. He's my godson and Draco's cousin."

"Yes," Rita said, tapping her vivid green nails together.

"We want to adopt him," Harry said. "But we can't. Because there is a low stating that we can't, because we're gay. Right now the Phoenix Orphanage is overrun with magical children without parents, who are desperately in need of homes. I want you to champion the cause for gay couples to be allowed to adopt magical children."

Rita's mouth dropped open slightly.

"You have to be kidding me."

"Not even a little bit."

"The Wizengamot will never let it pass," she said, gathering her wits. "Never. I'm sorry, Harry, but I can't help you."

"It's going to happen sooner or later," Harry argued. "The times are changing, Rita. Draco and I are going to raise Bear, no matter what, but it's not fair that children are being denied the right to a loving, caring home just because some old geezers at the Ministry are too scared to change things."

"You're certainly passionate, I'll give you that," Rita said. "Now, that would sell copies. The impassioned, capricious relationship between former rivals…"

"Our relationship isn't capricious." Harry cut her off before she could build a full head of steam. "We're very much in love. If you won't help me then I'll just go to another publication."

Rita sighed heavily and shook her head. "I don't know how to spin it."

"Then don't spin it at all," Harry argued. "Just write the story."

"I'll think about it." Harry opened his mouth again, but it was Rita's turn to cut him off. "I can't offer you any better than that, Harry. Journalism is all about the angle, the spin, the tone of the article. I know you think of me as vacuous and gossipy, but there's skill involved in this profession. The editor wants to sell papers, and what you're proposing is going to upset a lot of people.

"Polly will contact you," she finished, a clear dismissal.

Harry stood. "Thank you for your time," he said, and left.

xXx

He was surprised, when he returned home, to find Draco, Angelina, George and Neville, and Bear and Titan Noble all assembled in the living room.

"I need a drink," he announced.

"Baby," Angelina said, bouncing Titan in her arms.

"Baby," echoed Draco; Bear was nearly asleep in his.

"Fine, I'll get it," George mumbled. "Butterbeer okay?"

"Perfect," Harry said and slumped down into the chair next to Draco.

"Where have you been?"

"Tell you later," Harry murmured, kissing him on the cheek. "What's the reason for the party?"

"No party," Draco said, turning into another, slower kiss.

"More like a mother's meeting," Neville added.

George passed Harry a Butterbeer.

"You're going to have to explain. Small words, please."

Angelina turned in her gentle pacing and rocking and smiled at Harry. "They're overrun at the Phoenix and they just don't have the staff numbers to give the ones that need individual attention the care they need. It's not that the team don't want to, they've just got too many kids."

"So we're fostering Titan," George added. "For now."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "How the hell did you manage that?"

"Friends in high places," George said with a smirk. "We cut to the chase and let them interview us under Veritaserum. My brother now knows too much about my sex life, but they're happy for us to have him."

"Does Molly know?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"Not yet?" Angelina answered in an equally small voice.

"Ohh. She's going to kill you."

Draco snorted with laughter, then turned his head into Harry's shoulder to hide his giggles. Bear yawned sleepily, rubbing his eyes (which were stormy grey) with his chubby fists, and scowled at Draco.

"Bed," he said emphatically.

Draco beamed. "That's a new one," he said. "Okay, trouble. I'll take you to bed."

In Angelina's arms, Titan, too, looked on the verge of sleep.

"Do you have anything for a baby?" Harry asked. George looked appropriately guilty.

"It was sort of one of those act before you think moments," he explained.

Harry laughed to himself. "It's alright. I know the feeling. Give me a minute. Bear's got loads of clothes, I'll get you some."

It was easier in the end for Angelina and George to stay for the night, rather for them to have to make their way across London with a clearly exhausted baby. Harry set them up in his old bedroom and left them to it. After all, he and Draco hadn't exactly had an instruction manual when they'd taken Bear.

"I can't believe they did that," Draco said as they changed for bed.

"Me either."

"I suppose they did talk about adopting Bear though."

"That's true."

Harry curled around Draco in bed, seeking out the position that had them pressed tightly together in every curve and bend. They laced their fingers together and held on tight.

"It's not fair," Draco mumbled.

"What's not?"

"That they can probably adopt Titan straight away if they want to. We've had Bear for a year and who knows when we'll be able to be his parents."

Something swooped in Harry's belly.

"Yeah. I need to talk to you about that."

"Should I roll over?"

"That's probably a good idea."

The bed creaked as he shifted.

"Oh no," Draco said, surveying his face. "What did you do?"

"Do you know where Walthamstow's is?"

"Yes, it's a very expensive bakery. Stop trying to distract me."

"I owe a receptionist called Polly a large box of Walthamstow's red velvet cupcakes."

"I can arrange that. Whose receptionist is Polly?"

Harry squirmed. "Rita Skeeter's."

"Oh you didn't."

"I did."

"Harry!"

"I'm sorry!" he wailed. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Okay," Draco said, taking a deep breath and pointedly not moving the arm that was casually slumped over Harry's waist. "What exactly did you say to her."

"I asked if she would be willing to front a campaign on behalf of you and I to allow gay couples to adopt orphaned children," Harry said in a rush.

Draco was silent for almost a minute. Finally he said "You're fucking insane."

"That's what she said. Almost."

"You'll never get it past the Wizengamot."

"She said that, too."

With a furrowed brow, Draco thought about it some more. "I don't know if I have anything else to say."

"She's going to call me if she can figure out a good way to spin it."

"You," Draco said, leaning in, "Owe me kisses in the shower in the morning."

"What for?"

"Being an impetuous idiot who makes decisions without consulting his partner first."

Harry smiled, lifting his hand to gently rake his fingers through Draco's hair.

"I've always been an impetuous idiot."

Draco kissed Harry's wrist.

"And I've always loved you for it."

* * *

_AN: Tonks was singing Hand in My Pocket by Alanis Morissette. And I've checked; Jagged Little Pill was released in 1995, so three years before this chapter is set. Feel old yet?_


	26. Team Gryffindor

_A/N: Sorry that this chapter is a bit later than normal. Ines is being fantastic and forcing me to stop being such a lazy writer so I looked at it again, and I'm much happier with it now. Thank you for that, sweetie! I also posted two new things this week: a very angsty drabble and a new story! It's the Harry/ Charlie thing that I started talking about a while back and only just now got around to posting. You can find them both through my profile. Oh, and while you're on my profile page there's a rather lengthly personal update there too, if you're interested in my nice long ramblings!_

* * *

Chapter 26- Team Gryffindor

"What time is it?" Harry murmured as he awoke, rubbing his eyes with his fists.

"A little after five," Draco said softly. He slipped back in under the sheets and curled around Harry's side. "Go back to sleep."

"I don't know if I can. Is Bear okay?"

"He was snuffling for a little bit, but he had a bottle and he's gone back down again now."

Harry yawned and nodded, taking Draco's hand and holding it against his flat stomach. Then pushed the hand down until it was pressing against his cock.

"Mm," Draco hummed. "Is this for me?"

"It is if you want it."

"I do."

Draco trailed his fingertips up and down Harry's length through his boxers, just softly, teasing, making him ache and leak. Harry dug deep and found the energy to roll over, palming Draco's cock in response; it , too, was growing harder.

They both kicked their underwear off and kicked the sheets down too, then laid naked on the bed facing each other. Harry instinctively took hold of himself and tugged a few times to ease the want. Draco's eyes (he could tell, from this short distance) widened and he instinctively wet his lips... a pink tongue licking over cracked pink lips.

Draco grabbed his own cock too.

"Don't stop," he said in a rough voice.

Harry shrugged. "Okay."

It was an old comfort, this, stroking himself in the early hours of the morning. It was something that hadn't changed in all the years he'd been doing it; through thinking he liked girls, from the confusion he felt looking at boys, to the times where he didn't think of anything at all but just did it because it felt good.

But this... doing it with someone watching...

Not just anyone watching, with _Draco _watching, was a new thrill. Another new thrill, something else that made his heart leap up and his stomach drop and something else, some other part of his body, zing with magical energy.

Draco's eyes fluttered shut and his neck arched back as he slowly thrust up into his own hand, the pink tip of his cock appearing through the gap in his fist before disappearing again. The movement was languid, sensual, undeniably sexual in its uninhibited wantonness.

"Did you..." Harry started before his voice cracked. "Did you ever think of me when you did this?"

"Oh fuck, Harry," Draco muttered, his eyes opening to focus on Harry's again.

"Did you?"

"Yeah."

"Tell me."

Draco groaned, his hand slipping down to cup his balls instead. "I imagined... I imagined you doing this. Touching yourself. Why have I never watched you touch yourself before?"

"I have no idea."

"Me either. I didn't think about fucking you. Or you fucking me. I wanted to see your cock, a lot. To see what you looked like."

_Darker than me,_ Harry thought, filling in the gaps for a younger Draco. _More hair. Darker skin. Shorter, thicker, more bumpy. _

"I thought maybe one day I'd walk in on you wanking in the showers after a Quidditch match."

"Would you have watched me then?"

"Yeah. Kiss me?"

Harry leaned in and brushed his chapped lips over Draco's, once, back again, then softer, lingering. His fist tightened, teasing, maybe, or helping him hold back. There was something about the way Draco smelled... he smelled slept in, worn, a little sour, like clove cigarettes and the wind and the stuff he used on his hair.

He vowed, then, to spend more mornings not resisting the sight of Draco touching himself.

It was only when a finger circled his nipple that he realised his eyes had closed, the image behind his lids almost exactly the same as the one when he opened them. Draco was smirking, his thumb and forefinger poised ready to pinch hard but not, not yet, just rolling Harry's nipple gently.

He let out a breath in a grunt, not aware that he'd been holding it so long. Draco's eyes were fixed on Harry's cock and he seemed to be attempting to match Harry's stroke, either consciously or not, and Harry made a sound in the back of his throat that could have been a whimper.

The gently teasing fingers on his nipple clamped down without warning and he cried out then, squeezing hard to stop himself from coming and suddenly wanting to...

From the rocking of their bodies; hips forward and back, abs clenching, ass cheeks pulling in tight, the bed moved with them and like when they made love, softening and groaning around them. They both made gentle noises, want or need or probably both, little grunts and sighs when a thumb brushed over the sensitive tip of a cock or drifted lower, down between legs and the spot where it felt nice if you rubbed there hard enough.

"Oh fuck," Draco muttered and threw an arm (the one with the hand that had been pinching Harry's nipple) over his face, getting ready to come, Harry knew, and that wasn't okay.

"No," he said. "Look at me."

The forearm covering Draco's eyes pushed his hair back from his face and grey eyes widened, blinked, then with shoulders and heels digging into the bed and everything else arched up, Draco came... shooting hard up his stomach in thick spurts, crying out softly, his eyes unseeing but still looking at Harry.

Heavy, hard breathing joined the other sounds in the room and Harry was close, so fucking close when Draco murmured, "Your turn now."

A moment of blush- inducing self consciousness rushed through him as he realised that Draco was going to watch him, not that that should be a big deal because Draco had watched him come lots of times before, but not like this, not while he was fucking himself, and needed it...

His eyes screwed shut as the red flush crept down his neck and across his chest and he came too, crying out just as loud, panting for breath the same and the spunk, same as Draco's, oozing out over the top of his fist.

The blood was still roaring in his ears and his chest hurt from breathing so hard when a cold tingle told him that Draco had cast a half hearted cleaning spell, he was still a bit sticky but it didn't matter.

"I think," Harry said as they fit themselves back together, naked limbs wrapping around each other, "that I can sleep again now."

They did.

xXx

"Right," Harry said, dropping his quill and rubbing his sore wrist. "I think that's it."

Angelina looked up from the floor opposite him where she was painting her toenails with sparkly blue polish. "Okay, give it here."

Harry still scanned the parchment one more time before handing it over. She read it once and handed it back.

"Looks good to me."

Harry dropped his head back against George's sofa and groaned. "Why is this so hard?"

"That's what he said," George said, smirking as he passed Harry a mug of tea.

"It's all your fault," Harry muttered as he sipped. "You stole half my bloody team."

"Come on then, let me check out the competition," George said, snatching up the parchment.

The Hogwarts Alumni/ Phoenix Orphanage Quidditch charity tournament had attracted a great amount of press attention, mostly because of the fact that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were acting as joint hosts. As a result, they had had a huge number of ex- students express interest in taking part and it had been Harry's job to sift through the applicants and pick out his team.

Since he had only played with a select few during his time at Hogwarts he was relying (rather dubiously) on the recollections of Charlie Weasley of who was worth looking at, although he had Niko from the Blackhawks approve any suggestions. Charlie was, after all, playing for another team.

He had recalled the double team of Angelina and Katie Bell as two of his Chasers and Oliver Wood was his professional player and Keeper. Draco had agreed that it was a very good idea to put his pro player in a defensive position, although the professional who Draco had put on his team was playing Seeker.

"So, when do we start practice?" Angelina asked.

"Mm. Next week, Saturday lunchtime at the Blackhawks pitch," Harry said. "We'll have a meeting and figure out when is best for everyone, training wise, from there."

"Sounds good."

"What about Draco?" George asked. "Where are the Slytherins practicing?"

"He won't tell me."

"Bollocks."

"Really!" Harry laughed. "He's taking the whole thing very seriously."

"It was Bear's birthday match," Angelina said. "He's got it in his head that he's on some sort of winning streak."

"He won't even tell me who's on his team," Harry admitted. "It's all very hush-hush."

"Sounds like Draco," George said, rolling his eyes.

As they were talking a little head poked around the back of the sofa. Titan was still an extraordinarily quiet child but was slowly coming out of his shell with some characteristic Weasley family love. Angelina had told him, when Harry had been put on babysitting duty, that they couldn't put the child in a crib at night – he would scream blue murder if they tried. Instead he slept in a bed, albeit one that was close enough to the ground that he wouldn't get hurt if he fell out.

From what they could tell, Titan was probably a few months older than Bear, although since there was no birth certificate for him, they couldn't be sure. He was walking but not talking, although Ruth (who had taken a professional interest in all of the children who had been rescued from Lady Yaxley) said that this wasn't uncommon.

With his dark hair and big brown eyes and soft, caramel coloured skin, Titan could almost pass for being George and Angelina's biological son. Ruth had said his mother was Greek and practiced several ancient forms of magic from the region, probably the reason for Lady Yaxley's interest in Gaia's son.

"Hey, sweetheart," Angelina said softly as she noticed Titan, opening her arms to him. Slowly, and clinging to the sofa for support, he walked towards her. The last few steps turned into a run and he flung himself into her arms.

She laughed softly, then cradled him to her chest, rocking him slowly.

George stood and nodded his head towards the kitchen, indicating for Harry to follow him.

"What's up?" Harry asked as they both hopped up to sit on kitchen counters facing each other.

George looked at his feet, which were swinging back and forth, before speaking. "This is kinda hard for me to talk to you about..." he started.

"Is it about Titan?" Harry interrupted.

"Yeah," George said on a sigh. "We're going to apply to be his foster parents officially… the last motion was filed as an emergency circumstance and if we want to keep him we need to make it official."

"That's okay," Harry assured him.

In fact, he and Draco had already talked about it, a few nights before.

"Are you sure? I mean, you've had Bear for a lot longer than we've had Titan. I know that you're pissed off that you can't make him yours."

"It doesn't mean that Titan shouldn't have a family though," Harry said.

George shook his head. "Why are you being so nice? You have no reason to be this nice."

"Honestly?" Harry asked. "We were expecting it. Bear is our own battle and we know we'll probably be fighting it for a long time. Andromeda understands…it just makes sense for him to stay with us."

"Angie quit her job," George admitted.

"What? Wow."

"Yeah," he said. Harry frowned. "It's not like that," he rushed to explain, "She just wants to spend more time here, with Titan. She's going to be a partner in the business, get more involved with the shop and stuff."

"When are you going to propose?" Harry teased.

George blushed furiously.

"Shit, did you propose already?"

"Shut the fuck up," George muttered through clenched teeth.

"Your mum is going to go mental," Harry offered.

"I know."

"Congratulations," Harry said, smiling wickedly as he jumped down from the counter. "Honestly, mate. If anyone deserves all of this it's you."

"Thanks."

"And anyway," Harry continued, "I've already signed Angelina up to Team Gryffindor. There's no way you're stealing her away."

George laughed. "No chance of that. She can't wait to play against me."

"And beat you."

"Oi," he warned. "None of that in my own house, thank you very much."

"Do you have a ring yet?" Harry asked.

"No. Do you want to come shopping with me?"

"No," Harry said, teasing. "Of course I will."

They made arrangements for a lunch hour when Angelina wouldn't be around and Harry could safely leave Bear with Draco. It was only when he was heading home that he realised it should be Fred, not him, taking his brother engagement ring shopping. For the first time in a while, the grief hit his stomach like sickness, and it was all he could take not to throw up in a gutter in Diagon Alley.

xXx

_Daily Prophet_ Quidditch Tournament Special Edition from 6th June 1998

_The Hogwarts Alumni/ Phoenix Orphanage Quidditch Tournament will launch this weekend with the two hosts of the tournament, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy each captaining their former house team. Potter, playing Seeker for Team Gryffindor will not play directly against his partner as they did in their schooldays; Malfoy is playing out of position as a Chaser in order for Bulgarian Viktor Krum to take the Seeker's role, a move he claims is "purely tactical" (but those in the know claim is a move designed to upset the 'Team Weasley' Keeper as his girlfriend once dated Krum in their schooldays.)_

_Although Potter and Malfoy remain reluctant to discuss their relationship, it seems clear to those in the know that neither is playing nice when it comes to their team selection. Potter has appointed his former team captain Oliver Wood, now of Puddlemere United (and tipped for the England team) as his Keeper and his fellow teammates Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell return as Chasers. Only Alicia Spinnet, the third Chaser from the former Gryffindor team, will not return due to her job (curse inventor at Gringotts) not allowing time off for practice._

_Unfortunately for Potter, he "lost most of [my] sodding team" to George Weasley's 'Team Weasley'. In an emotional announcement last week, George (so called not out of disrespect, but due to the ridiculous number of Weasleys mentioned in this article, in a move so attempted to not confuse our readers) announced that the Fred Weasley Memorial Team would play as a fifth team against the four traditional Hogwarts house sides. Fred, George's twin brother and business partner at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, was killed last year during the Battle at Hogwarts. His four brothers, younger sister and sister- in- law will be joining George to make up a team with no professional player but a lifetime experience of playing together behind them. _

_As Potter stated, in his days on the Gryffindor team he played alongside Ginny, Ron, Fred and George Weasley (although not at the same time), whilst Charlie, the second eldest brother, was tipped to play Seeker for England before deciding to pursue a career working with dragons in Romania. The savvy punter (and indeed, betting man) will not discount Team Weasley from the competition. Fleur Weasley (nee Delacour) was recognised by no less than fourteen awards for her Quidditch skills during her time at Beauxbaton Academy, including Best Seeker, Best Captain, Best Sportswoman and Best Opponent Intimidator. _

_On paper, considering the Slytherin and Gryffindor teams, this sports reporter is hard pressed to find much between the teams in terms of skill and talent. It is with regret that this former Ravenclaw notes that Malfoy's team slightly tips the balance in terms of accolades and ability, but the team is disjointed, with no more than two of the players having ever played together before. _

_In contrast, what Potter's 'Team Gryffindor' lacks up in skill they make up for in heart, experience and sheer grit and determination. The players know each other socially and as players which will undoubtedly have made training sessions much easier. Potter has now famously refused to sign for Tutshill Tornados until the end of the tournament, lest he be in breach of the one professional player per team rule (one he himself instigated). The Tutshill Tornados,_ _amused, I daresay, have agreed to let their new First Team Seeker delay his contract until dangerously close to the beginning of next season. _

_Every player on every team is doing so for free, giving up their own time to train and play. Similarly, the grounds where the matches will be played have donated their resources without charge so that every last knut made by the tournament will go straight to the children who need it most. _

_Most excitingly, in a move designed to ensure that every child has an opportunity to see these games, Potter and Malfoy have set in place a ticketing system where each ticket is priced "as much as you can afford". With no set price scale in place demand has soared and donations have been rushing in. _

_George Weasley, in a move undoubtedly designed to drum up support for his team, has started selling 'Team Weasley' merchandise at his Diagon Alley store, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. The truly lurid orange and purple striped scarves, hats, banners and replica robes are available now._

_For more information on how to sponsor a team, buy tickets or make a donation, please owl us at the _Prophet_. Full match analysis of each game will appear in the _Prophet_ the day after the match; get your repeat order in by owl post today and make sure you don't miss a single one!_

xXx

As was his habit, Draco was awake early, had checked on Bear and made himself strong coffee to drink at the kitchen table while lazily flicking through the _Prophet's_ Sunday supplement. The wards to the house were more relaxed these days but still, he didn't expect anyone quite so early in the day.

With a pop, Hermione Apparated into the kitchen.

"Right," she said, slapping a pile of books down on the kitchen table.

"Christ, Granger, too early," Draco mumbled into his coffee. "Go away."

"No. And make me one of those," she said, gesturing to his mug. "I've figured out how we're going to approach the Wizengamot about you adopting Bear."

"Don't you have NEWTs to study for like the rest of us?"

"I'm making time for my friends." She smiled sweetly. "The devil makes work for idle hands. Come on."

"I don't understand," Draco groaned. "Why can't this wait until later?"

She just quirked an eyebrow in response.

For all of Draco's moaning, they got a lot done before Harry descended with a freshly changed Bear, ready for his breakfast. Hermione's version of 'research' involved sifting through case studies of previous adoptions and compiling evidence, a work method that frustrated Draco no end, especially since (as far as he was aware) he was supposed to have left school.

"Morning," Harry said, slipping Bear into his high chair and kissing first Hermione, then Draco on the cheek. "What're you doing here?"

"Thank you," Draco said. "She was here at an obscene time this morning."

"How did you get out of school?" Harry asked.

"It's Saturday," Hermione said with a shrug. "I got permission from the Headmistress to spend a few hours out of the grounds."

"And you're with us rather than your boyfriend? I'm touched," Draco grumbled.

"Ron's in Johannesburg, as you well know," Hermione said primly. "And you need me more than he does."

"I doubt that," Draco muttered. Hermione chose to ignore him.

"Is there a plan?" Harry asked as he pulled eggs and bacon out of their chilled pantry.

"There's something that's rapidly starting to look like a plan," Hermione said. "It's risky, but the best plans often are."

"Ah," Harry said. "So I did teach you something."

"Shut up," she said lightly.

"So, what are we going to do?"

"Eat breakfast?" Draco suggested. He was ignored.

"What we are going to do," Hermione said, "Is go through all of the normal channels of legal adoption, paying absolutely no attention to the laws that state that two men aren't allowed to adopt."

"Right..."

The smell of sizzling bacon started to fill the room, and Harry stuck several slices of bread under the grill to toast.

"The first thing to do is file the paperwork. Basically, if we get past that stage it'll be a bloody miracle. They'll either accept it, which moves you on to the next stage, and which I highly doubt, or reject it and then we'll have to go through the entire appeals process. Or, they might throw it to the Wizengamot."

"And what do we want them to do?" Harry asked.

"We want them to accept it, of course, but they won't," Hermione said, standing and setting the coffee pot to brew. "I think, because it's you, they'll pass it on to the Wizengamot."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Yes. Because then we get to stand up and say exactly why you and Draco are the most suitable parents for Bear, any ancient laws be damned."

"Okay..." Harry said, frowning.

"What they'll do is challenge it. Challenge you, I suppose. They're going to try and find every reason why you _shouldn't _be allowed to adopt him, so all we need to do is make sure our reasons are better than theirs."

"See? Easy," Draco said. He was ignored. Again.

"Fried or scrambled?"

"Scrambled," Draco said. Harry looked back over his shoulder and smiled.

"I don't know, Hermione," he said. "Shouldn't we... I don't know. Hire a lawyer or something for this?"

His suggestion was met with a deathly sort of silence.

Harry turned slowly back to the kitchen table where Hermione had folded her arms over her chest and was fixing him with a stony stare. Draco had rocked his chair back on two legs and was sporting what could only be described as a shit- eating grin.

"Am I not good enough to handle this?" Hermione asked in a low voice.

"No, it's not that at all," Harry said in a rush.

"Because I can, you know," she said. "I can more than handle it. I'm doing eight NEWTs and spent a year as Head Girl, _and _stayed active in the Order and on top of that," (her voice was raising to alarming levels now) "practically been your PR woman for the entire Quidditch tournament. So don't tell me, Harry Potter, that I can't handle this."

"You should consider a career as a lawyer, Granger," Draco said sweetly.

"Stop sucking up, you," she said, rounding on him.

The legs of Draco's chair hit the stone tiles with a thunk.

"It was just an idea," Draco said, wounded. "Don't burn the bacon, Harry."


	27. Kiss

_A/N: I am having a lovely run of writing at the moment. It always seems that when I get scared about one thing ending something else comes along and grabs me by the shoulders and keeps me firmly lodged in an alternate reality. It's quite nice, really. The voices in my head just won't let go.  
If you haven't had chance to check out Unbroken yet, I've just updated with another chapter.  
Thank you all for being such wonderful readers! _

* * *

Chapter 27- Kiss

The day of reckoning had arrived.

Officially, Harry was banned from calling it 'the day of reckoning' aloud because it was annoying the living daylights out of Draco, but he still used it in his head. Rita Skeeter had summoned them back to her office to "discuss his request," according to her owl. She'd given no further indication to whether or not she was going to do it.

He had promised to be on his best behaviour, but again, he couldn't make any promises.

"I have spoken with Mr Weasley," Rita started.

"Which one?" Harry interrupted, just to annoy her.

She frowned. "Mr Percy Weasley, manager of the Phoenix Orphanage-"

"Oh," Harry said nodding.

Rita ground her teeth together. "Who has informed me that if the orphaned children are unable to be placed with wizarding families the Minister is looking at plans to place them with Muggles."

"Yes," Harry said. "We know."

Draco slipped his hand onto Harry's knee under the table and squeezed it lightly. Rita looked like she was on the verge of exploding - there was no need to bait her further.

"So, how are you going to 'spin it'?" Harry asked, throwing Rita's own words back at her.

"Don't start with me, Potter," she growled. "If you want my help then you can take it in the way I want to give it. I'm not going to pander to your-"

"Okay, Rita," Draco said, interrupting her and holding his hands up. "He'll back off. Why don't you tell us what you've come up with?"

Rita sat back and considered the notepad on her desk. "From what I've been told, we're at risk of sending magical children off into non- magical families. Quite beyond the implications this may have to the Statute of Secrecy, which will, of course, be of great interest to our readers, there is the obvious public interest in making sure these children are raised in an environment where their magical abilities are embraced and nurtured, rather than repressed by parents who have no idea of how to deal with the way magic may present itself in childhood."

She took a deep breath at the end of her speech. Draco's eyebrows looked like they were about to disappear into his hairline.

"Well, that's certainly one way to put it," he said.

"There's more," Rita said. "If there is the possibility of these children being introduced to families of magical parents, even if these parents are same sex couples, then surely this is in the interest of the child's wellbeing over and above being placed with heterosexual Muggle parents. Then we go on to use your relationship as a successful case study. After all, the Ministry themselves decided to place your child with two homosexuals rather than-"

"I wasn't gay when we-"

"Sweetheart," Draco said, rubbing Harry's knee lightly. "We can work out the details later. Look at the bigger picture here for a moment."

Harry frowned and huffed, but let Rita continue.

"As I was saying," she said acidly, "Even when the Ministry agreed childcare arrangement came under threat, it was again to you that the child was delivered for care and safekeeping. All the Ministry has done, over the past year, is demonstrate their support of not only your relationship but your right to raise a child together. Why will they now not offer this same privilege to other same sex couples? And why will they not allow you to adopt the child you consider to be your son and make the arrangement formal?"

"I have to admit, you've got a good angle," Draco said.

"It's a human interest piece," Rita said, shrugging. "It's controversial but the grounding is secure. It's going to be difficult for the Ministry to argue with me. And I might have another couple lined up to speak to me, and one of them is an Auror. I mean, one of the Ministry's finest is raising children with his gay partner. Come on."

"I don't suppose you'll give us his name?" Harry asked, thinking, as he did, about Craig Morningside.

"No chance," she scoffed.

"It's just that we might know him already," Draco said. "We might be able to convince him to talk to you."

Peering over the top of her rhinestone spectacles, Rita surveyed him curiously. "I'll think about it," she said.

"So, where do we go from here?" Draco asked.

Suddenly, Rita's expression changed.

"Well," she said, smiling widely. "The best way to kick all of this off would be with a nice long interview with the two stars of the story…"

Draco's grip on Harry's knee tightened in warning.

"We'll give you a few quotes to use in the article, but no interview," Draco said.

Rita pouted.

"I can guarantee you a full two page spread exclusive…"

"I don't see how that benefits us," Harry said.

"If I may remind you, Mr Potter, it was you who came to me for help," Rita said, clearly at the end of her patience. "If you don't want it I can run another story completely."

"Harry, just go," Draco said in a low voice. "I'll make an appointment and meet you outside. Go," he said as Harry ground his teeth together.

"Thank you for your time, Ms Skeeter," he said, standing.

Rita rolled her eyes as he left the room.

Harry stormed through to the reception area and threw himself into a squishy armchair in a sulk.

"Oh dear," Polly said from behind her desk. "Do you want one of my cupcakes?"

She licked a swirl of frosting from her fingertip and Harry smiled in spite of himself.

"Yeah," he admitted after a moment's thought. "I do."

Polly laughed, delighted, and held out the box to him. Harry had decided that bringing a half dozen to Rita's receptionist might be the best (or only) way of being able to cope with these visits. Polly made sure that Rita was in a good mood before they turned up. And if she shared her cakes, well...

"Help yourself. Trust me, I know what it feels like to need a sugar rush after a meeting with her."

He selected a chocolate cake with blue icing and silver mist swirling around the top.

"Can I tell you something, Mr Potter?" Polly asked, lazily swinging herself back and forth on her chair.

"Um, yeah. It's Harry."

"Harry. I used to fancy the pants off you."

"Oh. Um. Okay."

Polly laughed. "Don't worry. Your boyfriend is very handsome."

"You didn't go to Hogwarts, did you?" Harry asked, licking blue icing off his thumb and trying desperately to change the conversation.

Polly hummed and shook her head. "Beauxbatons. My mum is from Toulouse and she wanted me to go there."

"Did you know Fleur?"

"Delacour?" Polly rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Who didn't."

"My friend called her Phlegm."

Polly snorted with laughter, then hid her giggles behind her hand. "Oh, that's good. I like that."

"Why do you work here? For Rita, I mean."

"It's a job," Polly shrugged. "And good work experience."

Nodding although he didn't really understand, Harry threw his cupcake wrapper in the bin. Before he could ask Polly anything else Draco strode out looking rather pleased with himself. He murmured a 'thank you' to Polly and grabbed Harry's hand.

"You're a nightmare and a liability," Draco announced as they walked back up Diagon Alley.

"I'm sure you've told me that before."

"Sometimes these things bear repeating."

"I won't argue with that. What's the plan? Is there a plan?"

"I'm not letting you back in there with her again," Draco said. "You'll kill her. I'm doing an interview with her on Tuesday and she's going to run the story next weekend."

"That soon?"

"Yes. So don't go doing anything to mess it up."

"I'm offended."

Draco laughed and kissed his forehead. "Come on. Let's go annoy George before we have to pick Bear up."

xXx

The one year anniversary of the end of the war was marked with several events and numerous articles in the press, all heralding how far the wizarding world had come since they had overthrown the regime of a villainous dictator. Harry had turned down so many requests for speeches, or his presence at events that he had almost lost count. It didn't stop the invites coming, though.

The single event he could actually stomach the thought of attending was being held by the Order.

It was a dinner and was being joint hosted by the Minister and Hogwarts' Headmistress, not that Harry found either of these people even mildly intimidating any more.

It was 'politically prudent' (Draco's words, not his) that they attend, especially since the invitation was addressed jointly to Mr Harry Potter and Mr Draco Malfoy. Harry thought, secretly, that this would be a good opportunity for Draco to be invited to join the Order. Not that he had mentioned this to his boyfriend.

They had spent the morning of the second of May mostly sticking to their routine. It was good, having Bear as an excuse to stay in and not rush off to any of the memorial services or tributes, sending their words of love and condolence in letters rather than delivering speeches. Instead, they were just left alone as a family.

The Order's event fell a few days later, a Saturday, when neither of them had anything to do or anywhere to be until the following afternoon. Harry had rearranged Team Gryffindor's Quidditch practice after some serious nagging from Draco, who had convinced them both that if Harry got on a broom he was only likely to fall off again and seriously, possibly mortally, injure himself.

"What are you two doing wandering around half naked in the middle of the day?" Hermione asked, inflicting just the right amount of scandal and disapproval into her voice as she let herself in through the kitchen Floo.

"Why do you think?" Draco asked, rolling his eyes.

"Because I just shagged him within an inch of his life," Harry called.

Hermione humphed and turned to scoop Bear up from the floor, hiding her blush.

"Do you want to stay for lunch?" Harry asked as he jogged back down the steps into the kitchen. "Draco made soup."

"What kind of soup?" she asked while pulling faces at Bear to keep him amused.

"Carrot and coriander," Draco said.

"Mm. Sounds good. Will you two put some clothes on?"

Harry caught Draco's eye. "No," they said at the same time.

In all honesty, Harry considered it a testament to how far Draco had come that he was happy to wander around the kitchen, while they had guests, wearing only long pyjama bottoms. From the scared, self conscious young man who wore long sleeved t-shirts even in bed a year ago, to someone who now wore his scars with a measure of pride. They told his story, the same as Harry's told his.

A large pot was set on the stove, the thick orange liquid therein gently bubbling as Draco added salt and pepper and stirred with a long wooden spoon, taking care to keep his bare arms away from the heat. Harry slipped up behind him and wrapped his arms around Draco's chest, pressing a kiss between his shoulders.

"Are our suits back from the cleaners?" Harry asked.

"Nope. I'm picking them up at three."

"Okay. Do you want cheese toasties with this?"

"Granger. Do you want a cheese toastie with your soup?"

"Yes, please."

"Yes, please."

Harry rolled his eyes and padded over to the pantry to find bread and cheese and butter.

"There's a meal tonight, did you know? Before you two fill up on lunch."

"I did hear. But they've got bloody Giannetto's doing the catering, so it'll be shi- not very good." Draco stretched his arms up above his head, hands clasped, popping out the aches in his spine. Harry noticed, as he turned back to the counter with his hands full, Hermione's eyes quickly sweep Draco's chest and the faint pink of appreciation staining her cheeks. He decided to store that little nugget of information away for later torment.

"You're such a snob," Hermione muttered. Their friendship was such that little digs and insults were now par for the course.

"Thank you," Draco said with a winning smile.

"How's the scarring?" Hermione asked, catching Draco absently scratching at his left forearm.

He shrugged. "It's okay, I suppose," he said. He held it out for her inspection. "It still looks a bit grim."

Hermione took his offered wrist and gently tugged him forward, running her fingers up and down the scarred flesh.

"You can still see the black," she murmured, frowning.

"Only just," Draco said, protesting.

"No, I mean that… there's probably something that can bleach it all out."

Draco winced. "I'm not sure if I like that idea."

"The Muggles have this process, it's called laser removal."

"And I really don't like that sound of that."

Hermione ignored him, and continued "But since it's not ink, per se, that might not work. I'll have a look in your library, if there's not something in there then I'm sure I can find something at Hogwarts."

"Leave him alone, Hermione," Harry said from the counter. "And make yourself useful. Bear needs his lunch."

"I need mine too," Draco said, grouching as he took the plate of bread, cheese, apple and grapes from Harry and passed it to Hermione. She managed to cajole Bear into his high chair and offered him the plate.

"No throwing it," she told him in an authoritative, warning voice.

Harry had served up three bowls of the soup, and piled the toasted sandwiches on a plate to go in the middle of the table.

"What time is Weasley getting home?" Draco asked as they sat down to eat.

Hermione shrugged. "This afternoon at some point, I hope. Otherwise I'm going on my own."

"Bear can be your date," Draco said, teasing. "You can sit with him all night if you like. He's great company."

"I don't doubt that," she said drily. "I'll hold out for Ron though, if it's all the same to you."

"Your loss," Draco said.

"Are you nervous?" Hermione asked, addressing her question at them both but looking at Harry.

He blew at his soup and leaned over so it wouldn't spill down his bare chest. "Nope."

"Really?"

"What can they do, Hermione? Take pictures? Let them. I don't care."

"Rita will be looking for a scandal."

"We _are_ a scandal, Granger," Draco said, smiling. "Well, I am at least."

"Are you two going to get married?" Hermione asked, her voice painfully matter-of-fact.

Both boys choked on their soup.

"Jesus, Granger, are you trying to kill me?"

A smirk just barely graced the corners of her lips.

"Of course not. I'm just asking a question."

"Are you and Ron?" Harry countered.

"Not yet," she said, calmly dipping the corner of her toastie into her soup. "Our jobs just aren't compatible at the moment."

"Your job?" Harry pressed.

"Don't change the subject," she said. "Are you?"

"It's not allowed, for a start," Draco said. "We can't even if we wanted to."

"Like that would stop you."

Draco cocked his head to the side, acquiescing. He looked over to Harry and smiled. "Want to marry me, Potter?"

"I love you, but no," Harry said.

Pressing his hand to his chest, Draco affected a wounded face. "I'm hurt."

"I hate you, Hermione," Harry muttered. "I'm not ready to get married. We've only been together a year."

"Okay," Hermione said lightly. "I was just asking."

"Just asking my arse," Draco grumbled. "You just like watching me get turned down."

"Oh, Draco," she teased. "Sweetheart. Diddums."

"Don't start," he warned her. "Or I'll poison your soup."

She laughed, delighted.

"I hate you," Draco sang. "And one day I'll make you pay."

"Children," Harry admonished. "Play nicely."

Draco stuck his tongue out. "Potter, when have I ever played nice?"

xXx

The Order's function was being held at a country estate that had been loaned to the Minister for the evening. Being out of London meant that the number of photographers that had braved the elements to snap pictures had diminished, although not by a lot.

Having Bear with them gave Harry and Draco a good reason not to hang about in the grand entranceway where the press had assembled; they ducked into a reception room as soon as they possibly could, but not before an eagle-eyed photographer had caught a picture of Harry's hand resting gently on the small of Draco's back as they retreated.

With all of their usual babysitters at the event there was no choice but to take Bear with them. George and Angelina were in the same position and followed with Titan; Angelina set Titan down on the floor and let him take off across the polished parquet at high speed, chasing after Bear.

"Butterbeer," Draco said to the barman on a long- suffering sigh. He glanced around. "Make it four."

George hopped up onto a barstool and opened his arms... Angelina groaned and let herself be folded up in his embrace.

"I hate the press," she mumbled into his shoulder. George smiled and kissed the top of her head.

"Me too. Blame Draco."

"Yeah, yeah, blame the Slytherin," Draco groused. "The Slytherin who is buying you a fucking drink."

"To the Slytherin!" George cheered, taking a glass from the bar and raising it in a toast.

"To our fellow parents- in- crime," Angelina said.

Harry clinked his glass against hers. "I'll drink to that."

The ballroom where the dinner was being held was smaller than Harry had expected, more intimate and warm, with wooden panels and heavy draped curtains. Ron and Hermione ran in at the last minute, both looking slightly flushed but Harry put this down to their being late and rushed and _nothing else._ It was too creepy to consider any other reason.

Members of the Order of the Phoenix had risen slightly since the end of the war but it was still essentially a small organisation. Too many members had lost their lives fighting for the cause and, looking around the room, Harry couldn't help but feel an ache for all those they had lost.

In spite of the sadness there had to be hope from the people who wanted to keep the Order going during times of peace; Kingsley was optimistic for their future and the work they were doing at Hogwarts, the orphanage and beyond to help people rebuild their lives now that the conflict was over.

Fortunately, there were enough hands, enough friends to take care of the babies while they ate and Draco seemed to get limitless amusement by setting Bear down on the floor and watching him chase after the house elves, much to Hermione's disapproval.

"So," Draco said to Ron over the dessert (chocolate torte, which Ron appeared to be enjoying greatly), "Where is the life of an Auror taking you at the moment then, Weasley?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "We're still trying to bring down all the international legs of this child- smuggling ring. It's all very hush-hush, you know, we're trying not to tip them off but it's hard."

"We'll be back in London soon," Neville added from across the table. "We've both been called to give evidence at Lady Yaxley's trial."

"How long will that go on for?" Draco asked.

"Possibly months," Neville said.

"During which time we're going to be stuck with desk jobs," Ron grumbled.

"Well, it can't all be fun and games and world travel," Draco said lightly.

When Kingsley stood and tapped at his water glass with his spoon, the gentle hum of chatter faded away and heads turned to the tall man at the head of the table. Harry quickly scooped Bear up off the floor so he wouldn't cause more trouble.

"Welcome," Kingsley said, spreading his hands, "To old friends and new. Tonight is both a celebration of how far we have come, and a chance to look back and mourn those who we have lost. Although our numbers may be depleted, tonight, as always, together we are strong.

"I have a few announcements to make before we begin. Firstly, I would like to welcome Miss Hermione Granger into my team at the Ministry in a new role as Muggle Political and Social Advisor. I tried to offer her this post a year ago but unfortunately for me, my dear friend Professor McGonagall stole her away for another year of learning."

Hermione was blushing, her cheeks clashing with the red dress she was wearing. To those sitting close, it was clear the moment Ron slipped his hand onto her knee to give it a reassuring squeeze.

"With Miss Granger's extensive knowledge of both Muggle and Wizarding culture," Kingsley continued, "I look forward to working with her and calling on her impressive brain to make our world a better place."

Draco elbowed Hermione lightly; she was sitting to his left with her eyes trained up the table.

"Congratulations," he whispered.

"Thanks," she whispered back.

"Finally," Kingsley said, wrapping up his speech, "I am sure many of you here are aware of the plight of one of our members as he and his partner attempt to legally adopt their son. I wish it to be known that if I were able, I would pass it into law myself for this to be allowed to happen. As it is, Wizarding Law requires amendments to the Protection of Children Act to be voted through by the Wizengamot, and therefore I wish to publicly announce that I will do my upmost in making sure we do right by both the children in this case, and the parents too.

"Now. Why don't we all go and let our hair down."

The room applauded and people started to stand, moving through the wide double doors to another reception room where glasses of Firewhiskey were floating gently, suspended in midair waiting to be taken.

Molly passed them and lifted Bear from Draco's arms, barely giving the boys a glance at all as she bounced the little boy to make him giggle.

Impulsively, Harry leaned over and pressed his lips to Draco's. By unspoken agreement they were rarely affectionate in public but this was different. Here, among friends, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to show them just how much he loved this man.

"Come on," Draco said, smiling and blushing just a little. "Dance with me."

Harry groaned. "I can't dance."

Draco laughed as he took Harry's hand and tugged him to his feet. There was a small area set to one side of the room, nearly abandoned now as people milled around in the adjoining reception room.

"All you need to do," Draco explained as he wrapped his arms around Harry's neck, "Is imagine we're in the shower together."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Harry said, sticking his tongue in his cheek.

Draco leaned in and bit his nose. "Shut up. Think that... hmm. It's your turn under the water now."

They gracefully rotated, swapping places.

Harry wrapped his arms securely around Draco's waist as music from the other room spilled through. Lights in the dining room had dimmed now, their swaying casting long shadows up the walls. Harry vaguely recognised a Muggle song playing on the old gramophone, and hummed along to the chorus.

"_You look wonderful tonight."_

"Look," Draco murmured. "You're dancing."

"With you," Harry agreed.

His grey eyes twinkled for a moment before the lids fluttered shut, and then Harry couldn't see anything at all as he closed his too and let himself sink into another soft, soft kiss.

* * *

_A/N: Harry and Draco are dancing to 'Wonderful Tonight' by Eric Clapton. (Of course)._


	28. The Malfoys

_A/N: Well, it's that time of year again where I pack up my boring desk job and head to Edinburgh for the Fringe Festival.  
This year I'll be there for almost four weeks but fear not, loyal reader, I've finished writing this story. I still need to do some editing but I'll keep posting while I'm away. If there are any EDF readers who are going to be there this year give me a shout! We can go for coffee at the Elephant House. _

* * *

Chapter 28- The Malfoys

He knew that Draco didn't really want him there. Well, that was a lie. Draco had expressly forbidden him from being there. But there were times when Harry willingly ignored everything Draco said because he was talking crap. This, he told himself, was one of those times.

In all his time hearing about the wizard prison, Harry had never had the chance, or any desire to go there. This was the place where Sirius had been wrongly imprisoned for twelve years, where Hagrid had been sent… where Draco's mother had spent the past year.

The tall column of stone came into view through swirling fog and mist as he took one of the two man boats out to the island. The gatekeeper on the mainland hadn't asked any questions, just raised one very hairy eyebrow and hobbled towards the suspiciously rickety boat.

Harry nodded his head in thanks to the man and slipped his invisibility cloak around his shoulders. There was no one to take him any further. The Dementors were long gone; banished, moved far away, although their presence lingered, thick and heavy in the air. Human staff was kept at a minimum. No one wanted to work here. The shifts were short. Charms, spells and walls kept inmates enclosed these days.

It didn't take long for him to spot a blond head bobbing through the mist in the near distance. He followed, his footsteps muffled by the thick dirt that covered the ground. At the gate Draco was met by a Ministry witch in dark blue robes who thrust a clipboard at Draco, demanding his signature before disappearing back inside the fortress. Moments later, Harry got his first glimpse of Narcissa Malfoy in over a year.

To her credit, Mrs Malfoy looked surprisingly well, although barely recognisable from her former self. Her long blonde hair was tied back in a neat ponytail and she wore soft, loose trousers and a long sleeved blouse. No robes. She silently nodded to the Ministry witch as she passed through the cast iron gate and took both of Draco's outstretched hands in hers. In a scene stunning in its lack of emotion, Draco kissed his mother lightly on each cheek, then pulled her into a brief embrace.

"Shall we go?" Draco asked and Narcissa nodded.

"Home," she said softly.

Draco took her arm and at her nod, Disapparated away. Harry waited a few moments before heading back down to the dock, and the boat.

"Dunno what's worse," the boat's captain said as the headed back to the mainland. "They used to make all sorts of noises when those Dementors were here. Not any more though."

"No?" Harry enquired, to be polite.

"No. Now it's mostly silent. Spooky, if you ask me. At least before… you knew that they were alive."

xXx

Once back on the mainland Harry took the jump down to Devon to collect Bear in two shorter Apparitions. He was slightly shaken from what he'd watched; it seemed inherently wrong to him somehow, that calm, detached absence of emotion.

Any lingering doubts about where he had developed the connection between family and affection were cleared up when he arrived in Molly's kitchen and was enveloped in a warm hug.

"I still can't believe you went to that horrible place," she murmured into his shoulder. "Here. I made hot chocolate the proper way."

The 'proper way' involved melting chocolate in a pan then whisking in warm milk to create one of the richest, sweetest things Harry had ever tasted. The drink was accompanied by a plate of chocolate digestives, which he happily munched on while Molly fussed.

"Where's Bear?" he asked.

"In with Charlie," Molly said. "He's home for a few days." She sat down in the seat next to him and turned with a rare, gossipy expression of glee. "He broke up with his girlfriend," she whispered.

"Oh," Harry said. "Is that a good thing?"

"I didn't like her," Molly admitted guiltily.

"Oh," Harry said again. "I suppose I'm going to have to meet Mrs Malfoy. Well, you know what I mean, I've already _met_ her, but not as Draco's boyfriend."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a shuffle and a thump coming from the direction of the living room, then the unmistakable sound of little hands and feet crawling at speed. And a muttered curse from Charlie. Bear hurtled around the corner and looked up at Harry, his little face painted with joy at the sight of his daddy. He squealed in excitement and Harry scooped him up, laughing.

"I missed you too," he said. Bear planted his feet on Harry's thighs as Harry held him tight and chattered away as his hair turned from yellow to blue and back again. Impulsively, Harry kissed him on the head and held him tight. It was a wonder that Draco was so loving, so warm towards the baby considering the cool detachment of his own family.

Charlie walked through with Titan in his arms.

"Heh," Harry laughed. "Since when did you get stuck with babysitting duties?"

"Since all my siblings seem to be taking in waifs and strays and abandoned children," he groused. "I'm too old for this. Or too young. Take your pick."

"You should settle down," Harry said, deliberately baiting Molly. "Get married. Have a couple of your own."

"Oh Charlie," Molly sighed. "That would be lovely."

"No chance, mother," he said, bouncing Titan to his other hip. "And while I have the chance to change the subject, I have been informed by this young man that he would like some juice."

"Are they making friends?" Harry asked as Molly prepared two sippy- cups.

"Yeah, I think so," Charlie said. "Titan's a watcher. You can just tell he's taking everything in."

George appeared in the Floo shortly after and Titan immediately made a bee-line for his new surrogate Dad. It was fascinating, watching the interaction between the two after such a short time together. George had a way of holding the child that was at once protective but giving him room to breathe.

With his own son in his arms, Harry took the chance to head home.

The house was silent. Draco hadn't made it back yet, then.

Still, things needed to be done; Harry headed down to the kitchen to start dinner. Bear was content to sit in his high chair to watch, and drum at the wooden top with several toys. Harry hummed along to the radio as he cooked – lasagne, simple but nice – and waited for Draco to come home.

He was reading the paper and keeping half an eye on Bear when the kitchen Floo signalled Draco's arrival.

"Was starting to worry about you," Harry said without looking up.

At the lack of response, Harry jerked his head up. Draco was standing just inside the grate, wearing dark, well tailored robes. Without him saying a word, Harry understood.

"Oh," he said softly.

"I'm sorry," Draco immediately apologised. "I didn't realise... she was just expecting me to be back at home, and I can't leave her there by herself… it's worse than I thought and she needs me, Harry. She's my mum…"

"It's okay," Harry said, quickly moving over to take Draco's clenched fists in his hands and loosen his fingers. "I understand."

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered again.

"Shh." Harry caught Draco's face between his palms and leaned in to brush slow, sweet kisses over his lips. "Can you stay for dinner?"

Draco shook his head. "She's summoned the elves back. Dinner will be ready in a minute. I don't have long, she doesn't know I'm here. I will tell her though," he added quickly. "Tonight."

"It's okay," Harry promised. "Go. Do what you need to do. I'll still be here when you get back."

"I don't know when I'll be back."

"It doesn't matter. I'll still be here."

Draco shook his head. "I don't deserve you."

Kissing him again, more heat this time, more love, more promises, Harry made his point. "I love you."

Their foreheads made a soft thud as they came to rest together.

"I love you, too," Draco murmured. "I'll come over tomorrow."

"Okay."

"I can't say goodbye to Bear. I'll see him tomorrow anyway."

Harry nodded, understanding. He couldn't say goodbye either. Draco's hands had balled into fists again as he turned and left.

Suddenly, Harry didn't feel much like eating at all.

xXx

It was strange, putting Bear to bed by himself but he resisted bringing the baby into his bedroom, fearing a dependence on such a small person for comfort. Still, there was undoubtedly reassurance in routine; Bear knew the bottle, bath, bed system and it worked to calm them both.

Harry sat in the rocking chair in the nursery, the lights dim as the early spring sunset filled the room with a warm orange glow. Bear was snoozing in his arms, ready to be put into his crib but Harry wasn't quite ready to let go yet. His wand was across the room, on the changing table, but the door to the bedroom was open.

"Accio music box," he murmured, strangely pleased when the small wooden box flew obediently through both open doors from his bedside table and landed in his hand with a satisfying smack.

He lifted Bear's hand and ran it over the seam in the wood.

Instead of Tonks singing something wholly inappropriate, Draco's soft, husky singing voice rang out.

Harry nearly dropped the box in shock. Bear slept on.

"Well, Mr Malfoy, it seems you were wrong," Harry muttered as he set the box down on the dresser next to the crib. He lifted Bear and set him down on the cool sheets, covering the baby with his blanket and moving the stuffed hippogriff (a gift, from Ron) to easy cuddling distance.

The conspectus charm hovered, a reassuring presence as Harry pulled the door nearly shut and took himself off for a shower.

xXx

As promised, Draco returned the next morning, although after the fiasco of breakfast. White blond hair and dark gray eyes was Bear's nonverbal, but all too clear way of showing which parent he wanted, and it was not Harry.

"How is she?" Harry asked as they settled in the living room with mugs of tea and biscuits.

"She's… I don't know," Draco admitted. "She's not the same person she was a year ago. But neither am I."

"Did you tell her about me?"

Harry swung his legs over onto Draco's lap.

"I did. She wants to meet you."

Groaning, Harry dropped his head back until he was lying flat on the sofa, avoiding eye contact. "Yeah. Alright. Now?"

"You have been invited to dinner at Malfoy Manor this evening. Seven. Wear robes."

Harry propped himself up on his elbows and pouted. "I don't want to."

"I've already called Angelina," Draco continued, ignoring Harry's strop. "She's happy to watch Bear for a couple of hours on the condition that we take Titan on the weekend."

"Draco-"

"The elves are ecstatic to be back. They had already started cooking when I left this morning and,"

"Draco-"

"Sage said he'd make a raspberry tart since he knows it's my favourite and mmmph!"

Harry had cut off Draco's rambling with a firm kiss. "Draco," he said as he pulled away. "Help."

"What's wrong?"

"You have less than eight hours to teach me all I need to know about pure-blood etiquette and formal dinners and meeting one's potential in-laws."

"Oh god."

"Is it that impossible?"

"No. You just referred to my mother as a potential in-law."

Harry fell back on the sofa, laughing breathlessly. "What about your potions?"

"All my work has been handed in," Draco said, reaching over Harry's slumped form to take his mug from the coffee table. "Whatever's left down there can wait now."

"Do I need to do anything?"

Draco grunted as he sipped the hot tea. "Please don't."

"Oh!" Harry exclaimed, hitting Draco on the arm to get his attention. "I found out something last night. The music box."

"Oh?"

"It doesn't just play your mother's voice."

"No?"

"Last night, Bear opened it, and it played yours. I didn't know you sang Hushabye Mountain to him."

"What? That's impossible. It's only ever played a female voice."

"To your knowledge it has," Harry argued. "Or maybe the box thinks you're his mum."

"Shut up."

Harry snickered. "You never know."

Draco sulked for a few minutes, then helped himself to another biscuit. "Do you think Hermione wants a baby?"

Harry snorted with laughter. "No."

"Really? She loves Bear."

"Everyone loves Bear."

"That's true."

They rolled over on the sofa, tea abandoned, snuggling in a new position. Draco wrapped his arms tightly around Harry's waist and put his chin on Harry's shoulder.

"Mrs Weasley told me to call her 'Molly'. The other night. At the dinner."

Harry smiled. "You're really part of the family now."

"I thought she would hate me."

Harry leaned back and kissed his boyfriend quickly. "She's a very loving woman. She loves you in the same way she loves Hermione and Fleur and Angelina. As far as Molly's concerned, I'm one of her kids, and you're mine. So you're hers too."

"I'm not saying that I understand that logic, but I like it nonetheless."

Their kisses started slowly and soon morphed into something more intense. Harry rolled on to his back and tugged Draco on top of him. With their hands linked, fingers twined, Draco stretched his arms up above his head, pinning Harry to the sofa with his forearms.

"I missed you," Draco murmured, peppering kisses down Harry's neck.

Harry laughed breathlessly and arched into the sensation. "I haven't been anywhere."

"You've not been inside me for days," Draco groaned. "I can't handle it. I need you too much."

"I... _oh_... I sucked you in the shower," Harry said in a low, rough voice that he barely recognised as his own.

"I still need you," Draco said. He licked back up the other side of Harry's neck. "I always need you."

"Need me?"

"Just you, Harry," Draco murmured, nudging Harry's nose with his own to get him to open his eyes and leaning back to the point where he knew Harry's awful eyesight could focus on his face. "I only want you."

"I only want you too, you daft bugger," Harry said. He pulled one of his hands out of Draco's grasp and curled it around the back of Draco's neck, pulling him down into another kiss.

"Do we have time..." Draco said, looking up to the clock on the wall.

Bear had reluctantly gone down for a nap (he had been awake since five in the morning and grouchy with it) but could possibly wake up at any time.

"I can be quick," Harry said with a wink.

Draco laughed, then groaned. "God. Me too. Bedroom?"

There was a moment when Harry was going to say no, to stay here, but the bed would undoubtedly be more comfortable and plus, their lube was upstairs. He grabbed Draco's wrist and Disapparated them both, landing in almost the same position on the bed.

They pulled at each other's clothes, stealing kisses on bare skin until they were both naked and laughing and casting spells at the door to keep the noise contained therein. It was strange, taking clothes off again after so short a time since they put them on. Skin was still soft from the shower, not worn in with a day's worth of activity yet.

Harry let himself taste his favourite parts of Draco's body: his neck, his collarbone... sweet pink nipples and the spot just above his bellybutton... the sweeter head of his cock as it filled to fullness. Draco laughed, gasped, and flipped him over, following the same path of kisses down Harry's body. He sucked the end of Harry's cock, just the head, flicking his tongue out to taste and making Harry groan before sitting up and straddling Harry's waist.

"Don't worry," Draco said, looking down and smiling.

"I'm not worried," Harry said defiantly.

Draco licked his lips slowly and smiled, looking like he was trying to contain his laughter. "No. I'm not going to fuck you. I'm going to _ride_ you."

Wandlessly summoning the tin of lube, Draco kept eye contact as he reached behind and prepped himself, only letting his eyes flutter closed for a moment before smearing the thick liquid down Harry's shaft, then shifting his weight forward.

"Okay?" he asked.

Harry nodded, his eyes slightly unfocussed behind his glasses. Draco smiled again and reached back for Harry's cock, holding it steady as he pressed it against himself and sat back onto Harry's length. They groaned together at the contact, at the steady feeling of taking and being taken, neither quite sure who fell into which category when they were positioned like this.

Even when Harry was all the way inside him, Draco left his fingertips at the place where they were joined, equally as aroused and curious about the way it felt on the outside. He rocked his hips experimentally and rubbed his fingers over his stretched asshole... down to Harry's balls and back again.

"Move, for fuck's sake," Harry said in a tight voice.

"Sorry," Draco said. "It feels nice."

"It feels fucking incredible," Harry said. "That's the problem."

Draco huffed a laugh and rebalanced his weight on his legs, then leaned forward slightly, bracing his fingertips on Harry's chest. It was enough to give him the strength and angle to raise himself up, then drop back down again, the feeling of Harry pushing up into him enough to elicit a low, deep moan.

This was one of the few times that Harry actually looked graceful... when they were fucking, it was something that they both knew so there were rarely moments of jarring discordance between them. Draco rolled his hips sensuously as he rose up and down, the movement enough to make his cock slap wetly between his own belly and Harry's.

Harry reached for Draco's cock but Draco shook his head. "No."

"Why not?" Harry asked. Then he arched his back into the next thrust, biting down on his lip hard.

"Because I want to come from just this. From just your cock in my ass."

"Shit, Draco," Harry laughed breathlessly. "I know I said I was going to be quick, but..."

"Don't worry. Me too."

Harry grabbed at Draco's hips, giving them both new leverage as they thrust together. Harry's thumbs stroked over Draco's hipbones as they moved, the caress tickling and arousing over the fine skin and adding another layer to Draco's breathless arousal.

"Hurry up," Draco whimpered and Harry increased his pace, viciously snapping his hips up now and Draco raked his fingernails over Harry's nipples.

Harry ground his teeth together but it was no use and he was coming, the white heat curling in his belly then snapping as he shot hard up inside Draco's ass, pulsing against the other man's prostate. Draco was coming too, hands free, like he'd promised, the thick ribbons of come painting Harry's chest.

When he collapsed forward he knocked the breath from Harry's lungs and snuggled into his neck, panting heavily and kissing salty, sweaty skin. Harry reached down and gently touched the place where they were still joined, echoing Draco's earlier exploration before he pulled out.

"Sore?" Harry murmured.

"Mm," Draco agreed. "Don't fix it though. I like it."

"I don't want you to wince when you sit down to dinner with your mother," Harry said.

Draco laughed, then groaned. "Oh god. There's an image for you."

"Come on," Harry said, slapping Draco's ass. "Get up."

"I can't. I'm dead."

"You're not dead. You're well fucked."

Draco smiled against Harry's neck. "Yeah. I am."

xXx

"Are you ready?" Draco called.

"Almost," Harry replied.

Draco appeared in the doorway to their bedroom, and rolled his eyes.

"What's got your knickers in a twist?"

"She's a rather scary woman," Harry said, pulling at his collar.

Draco swatted his hand away. "Of course she is. She practically built a career on being a professional non- Death Eater. But she doesn't hate you. She just hates everything you represent."

"Oh thanks. That makes me feel so much better."

"I was joking."

"I'm not sure that you were."

They walked down to the living room, waiting for the clock to tick over to seven precisely (to be early was embarrassing, to be late, inconceivable). Draco took Harry's hands in his own and leaned in for a quick kiss.

"She probably will try and intimidate you, but if you stand up for yourself she'll respect you a lot more."

"Okay."

"Cutlery goes from the outside in."

"I know that."

"Then you'll be just fine," Draco said soothingly. He ran his hands briskly up and down Harry's forearms a few times, then the clock in the hall chimed. "Let's do this."

They arrived in the entrance hall to the Manor, a soft pop signalling their appearance. The house elf that greeted them, true to Draco's earlier pronouncement, looked thrilled to be there to the point that he was practically humming with excitement.

"If Master Draco and Mister Potter would kindly follow Sage, he will be showing you the way," the small house elf said, bowing low.

To Harry's surprise, rather than shying away from any sign of affection, Draco slipped his hand into Harry's as they followed Sage through the winding hallways, filled with large paintings of Malfoy ancestors, all of whom seemed to take his presence as something of great interest. On more than occasion he saw the occupant of one portrait slip sideways into the one next to it and lean in to murmur in that occupants ear.

The house was large but set out in a way similar to many other manor houses with two distinct wings, an entrance hall that joined them and a grand staircase that bisected them. The kitchens were to the rear, entertaining rooms to the front and long, narrow corridors to impose guests.

They were shown into a long dining room with beautiful architectural detail at one end, underneath which the tall, head of the table chair was placed. That seat was set, and the one to its right and left and the eighteen or so other places were bare.

Draco squeezed Harry's hand in reassurance as they walked down the room. Nervous, Harry waited to take his cues from Draco (who was taking the seat at the head of the table), then Narcissa walked in.

It was almost impossible to tell that Draco's mother had just spent a year in Azkaban. Even in the few days that had passed since Harry had secretly watched Draco meet her at the prison's gates, Narcissa seemed to have regained some of the colour in her cheeks and the greyness had gone from her skin.

She was wearing dark blue robes; a variation on the black she had worn during the war, but still formal, and her hair was swept up and away from her face. She wore no makeup, but was the sort of woman who didn't need to.

Draco leaned in and kissed his mother lightly on the cheek then, following Draco's earlier instruction, Harry took her hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles. Both gentlemen were to wait for the lady to sit first, which they did, and a different house elf promptly appeared to serve soup.

Conversation through the first course was limited to painfully polite enquires as to each other's health and to the wellbeing of the baby. Narcissa seemed bemused at Draco's explanation of the origins of Bear's nickname and seemed on the verge of revealing her own motherly term for her son in his childhood before Draco's imposing glare stopped her from doing so.

"I understand you have a large Quidditch tournament approaching, Mr Potter."

"Yes. Draco and I organised it."

"So I hear." Narcissa was silent for a few moments while Harry waited for her to elaborate. "They do permit us newspapers in Azkaban, Mr Potter."

"Oh, do they?" Harry said weakly, trying, and failing, to keep the groan from his voice.

"They do," she repeated. In studying the blonde woman's expression Harry was sure, for a brief moment, that a smile tugged at the edge of her mouth, but she dipped her head to return her attention to her broccoli, and the moment passed.

"Harry has been accepted to play for a professional Quidditch team this coming autumn," Draco offered.

"How nice for him."

"Mother," Draco warned.

She simply looked at him. "I've never taken an interest in professional sports before, Draco, what makes you think that I will now?"

"Because Harry is my partner," Draco said hotly.

"Oh darling, do calm down," Narcissa sighed. "It is not a slight to your… relationship. Just a simple statement of fact that regrettably, Quidditch does not interest me."

"May I ask you something, Mrs Malfoy?" Harry asked before things between Draco and his mother could get any worse

"I daresay you can. And will."

"Did you know that Draco is gay?"

Draco groaned and covered his face with his hands. Narcissa shot him a stern look, then turned back to Harry, her sharp, disapproving frown melting into amusement. Harry was shocked, for a moment, at how well she could turn her emotions on and off. Then he realised that Voldemort had been living here, right here in this very house for however long at the end of the war, and this woman had probably had to learn very quickly how to control her emotions.

"Yes, Mr Potter. I probably knew before he did."

"So..." he wasn't sure how to phrase his question without sound accusatory, or blunt as all hell, so decided to just come out with it. "Is the problem that he's with _me_, or with a man at all?"

"Mr Potter-"

"Harry, please."

"Harry. The cat is well and truly out of the bag, as they say, so my opinion counts for very little."

"I disagree. You're Draco's mother. Your opinion is important to us both."

"I want..." Narcissa faltered, as if these words rarely passed her lips. "I want my son to be happy. More than anything else. But we are all under a great deal of pressure to conform to what is expected of us. Now more than ever."

"I mean no disrespect, but again, Mrs Malfoy, I disagree," Harry said softly. "The Wizarding world is changing, rapidly, and we're all struggling to find our place in it. Things are happening that would have been unthinkable only a year or two ago.

"Mrs Malfoy, I fall asleep every night with Draco in my arms, and I wake up every morning being held in his. He's my boyfriend, yes, there's no point in trying to deny it. But our relationship is more than that. We're both Bear's parents. Neither of us could do this on our own...

"I'm sorry I'm not what I wanted for your son," Harry said. "But I love him. Very much. And I hope that eventually, that can be good enough for you."

Her gaze fixed him to the spot as she stared him down, but Harry refused to give in. In the silence that followed Harry's monologue the elves appeared again and changed the courses; the plates refilled with a delicious looking toffee sponge pudding and Harry ducked his head, embarrassed, and turned his attention to his food.

For a few moments the only sounds echoing in the dining room were those of cutlery on crockery, and the occasional anxious lifting of water goblets.

"Have you thought this through, Draco?" Narcissa implored of her son when she finally broke the tension. "Really though about it? Because you're not going to be able to get married now. You cannot have children together. Any of your offspring will be born of a union out of wedlock. These things might not matter to you, but…" she shook her head. "All is not yet lost, darling. There is still time, we may still find you a nice young woman, one who possibly has… same sex inclinations, too. I'm not saying you should give up your current relationship. Just... present a respectable front, Draco, that's all I ask of you."

For one, heartbreaking moment, Draco considered his hands, and Harry thought that maybe he was going to tell his mother yes.

Then he raised his head."Up until a year ago I had accepted that as my life. But I've had something else, now, and I'm in love. Really in love, and I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't do what you want me to do any more."

"I don't want it for _me_," Narcissa said, her hesitation enough to convince Harry that she was speaking, now, right from her heart. "All I am trying to do is to safeguard your future. I have no control over the Malfoy estate, and Mr Potter here controls all that is left of the Black family fortune. I have nothing to offer you any more. Your father... well. He won't be released for many more years yet, but he can still ensure that any claim you may have to the Malfoy estate is tied up in your marriage to a woman."

"That doesn't matter to me," Draco said stubbornly.

"Really?" she asked. "You're used to a certain type of lifestyle, Draco..."

"Harry has money. I'll become a kept man."

"Oh, Draco."

"The Ministry are sponsoring Draco's studies, Mrs Malfoy," Harry said, forcing calm into his voice. "Your son is an exceptionally talented Potions maker, and already in his NEWTs he has demonstrated this. They're interested in what he might come up with next."

"By all means, study," Narcissa said, throwing her hands up. "But how do you intend to have a career and be a father? Draco, darling, how on earth do you know the first thing about raising a child? Do you even have a nanny?"

"We've been doing it for almost a year already," Draco said. "Without a nanny. Without anyone's help."

It wasn't strictly true, but Harry wasn't about to bring Molly Weasley into the conversation. He had a feeling that neither Malfoy would appreciate him doing so. And besides, Draco was pretty much right anyway. They had done it on their own.

Narcissa shook her head. "I don't understand."

"When he wakes up crying, I'm the one who goes to him," Draco said, and Harry could feel how much effort it was taking for Draco to remain calm. "I feed him, and change his shitty nappies, and tell him bedtime stories. I play with him, and we're teaching him how to talk, and how to control his Metamorphmagus abilities and how to walk and...

"He's _ours,_ Mum, and they're going to try and take him away from us."

Narcissa regarded her son for long moments. Eventually, she sighed and placed her napkin on her plate.

"If you gentlemen would excuse me, for just one moment," she said.

Draco stood as his mother did and Harry hastened to do so as well. Narcissa left with long strides and only when she left the room did Draco slump. He rubbed his eyes with his fists and Harry crossed to him quickly, grabbing his wrists and leaning in to kiss a pouting bottom lip.

They sank into the kiss, the silent communication enough, right then, enough to say what needed to be said with gentle lips and broad sweeps of tongue against tongue. It was the little whimper in the back of Harry's throat, then reality jumped in and told him this was not the time to get aroused from the smell of Draco's neck, and he couldn't just lay his partner down right here and make love to him, however much he might want to.

A small cough interrupted their kiss and Harry pulled away. Not far, Draco's hand was still clutching his hip, but far enough.

In defiance to his mother, possibly, Draco pressed his lips to Harry's temple before they sat down again.

Narcissa snapped her fingers and Sage appeared by her chair.

"Coffee, please," she said to him. The elf bowed low and silently disappeared. "I think," Narcissa said slowly, folding her hands on the table, "that I would like to meet my grandson."


	29. Making Babies

_A/N: So, ladies (and gentlemen?)  
I'm in Edinburgh, once again, sat within spitting distance of the cafe where JKR wrote Philosopher's Stone. And I found out something really cool yesterday... just around the corner from here there's a church called Greyfriars, and in the graveyard there's a tombstone for a man called Thomas Riddle. I just about came in my pants when I saw that! Serious shivers down the spine moment. On talking to some locals, apparently JKR used to wander around this area quite a lot, and obviously took inspiration from some of the old tombstones for her character names. We also found a stone for a man named McGonagall, and another for a boy called Hugo. I'll put some pictures up on my tumblr later, go check them out! For now, I hope you enjoy the chapter.  
-HFS xx _

* * *

Chapter 29- Making Babies

There was only one thing between Bear and the plate of biscuits that his dad had left on the coffee table in the living room. And that one thing was about half a room of open space.

In the grand scheme of things it wasn't that large a distance. He could, surely, cross it on his hands and knees, as was his most common mode of transportation. But, with the encouragement of his dads holding on to his hands, he'd been trying this thing where he just used his legs… four legs bad, two legs good. And the problem was, when he was on his hands and knees he couldn't see the biscuits any more, so how could he be sure they would still be there when he got to the coffee table?

No, it was no use.

There was only one way to get between here (here being the soft blanket covering the floor, where he had been presented with a large pile of blocks, a wooden train that made little puffs of smoke, and his stuffed hippogriff), and where he wanted to be. Which was over there.

One of his dads, the one with sunshine hair, was sitting in the chair sideways with his legs over the arm, reading and humming to himself. And not paying Bear any attention at all.

His other dad, the one with the nighttime hair, had his head stuck in the fire talking to someone.

Time was of the essence.

Bear put his hands on the floor and stuck his bum up in the air, rearing up onto his legs. He wobbled precariously, then landed back on his bum again. Bear pouted. Trying again, he stood, wobbled, corrected himself, and got a glorious view of the plate of biscuits. They had bourbons!

As he took his first, tentative, wobbling steps towards the biscuits, Daddy's snitch swirled over his head and fluttered in mad circles in front of his other daddy's head, distracting him from his book.

"Holy shit!" Draco exclaimed as Bear took another step towards the biscuits.

"Ow," Harry said as he hit his head, withdrawing from the fire. "What do you want?"

"Look," Draco said.

Bear took another step, his arms held out by his sides for balance.

"Oh my god," Harry breathed.

As Bear approached the table at a toddling run, Harry tightened his grip on his wand preparing to freeze, levitate or push things out of the way as necessary. Bear let out a little squeal of delight as he reached the table, grabbing hold of the edge and hauling himself up far enough to be able to reach his biscuity goal.

"You know this is all Weasley's fault," Draco said as Bear grabbed hold of a biscuit and Harry finally decided it was safe to pull the baby into a big, messy, chocolately hug.

"Good boy," he said, pressing his face into Bear's neck. "Aren't you a clever boy?"

Bear held out his biscuit, his prize, as if to say 'yes, and look what I found'.

Their ambition to officially adopt Bear as their son was progressing; the backing of the Minister for Magic behind them was no small matter, and Hermione's help and considerable skills meant that they had already filed their paperwork to the Ministry.

From time to time they'd get an owl from Hermione with more things for them to sign, or read, or an appointment from someone from the Department for Child Protection wanting to meet them or inspect their home. It was a small price to pay, and even as the press and public got behind them it was clear that there was still a long way to go.

As Narcissa learned that their chances of adopting Bear would be seriously hindered by Draco not living at home with his family, she decided, quite firmly, that he should not stay at the Manor any longer. It was a delicate balance of enveloping a new person into their little extended family… Harry was sure that they were still a way away from inviting Narcissa to family meals with the Weasleys, but the relationship between them was beginning to grow.

The first time Bear had been introduced to his newest grandmother he drooled all down the front of her cream silk blouse. With the onset of teething this wasn't unusual, but Harry still felt like burying his face in the crocheted pillows in the parlour at Malfoy Manor and groaning. Clearly, Harry had underestimated the fact that this woman was also a mother who duly vanished the spit and passed Bear a chewy something to entertain him.

It had also been decided that Andromeda would be moving out of her little cottage and into the Manor with her sister. Quite who was making these decisions wasn't clear… Despite all their history, it seemed that between Andromeda's losing a husband and daughter during the war and spending eight months in a coma, and Narcissa's experience being imprisoned for a year for war crimes were experiences from which both sisters could agree to reconciliation.

It wasn't until Draco mentioned it that Harry realised that the women had also lost a sister, and despite the truly deplorable things that Bellatrix had done, they were mourning the woman she once was.

xXx

"Are you ever going to tell me what the problem is?" Draco asked softly.

"Hmm? There's no problem," Harry said with his lips attached to Draco's neck. It was late, later than when they usually went to bed but neither man seemed ready to sleep just yet. They were kissing lazily and touching with no shame, only because they wanted to, and it felt good.

"Harry. Harry. Stop for a minute."

Harry pulled back and frowned. At the look on his face, Draco pulled him down into another kiss, then rolled Harry onto his side so they were facing each other.

"You've only ever bottomed twice," Draco said, pushing the hair back from Harry's face. "Every time I try to initiate going on top you shoot me down. So to speak."

Harry shrugged. "You like bottoming. And I like topping. Is that a problem?"

"You don't like bottoming?" Draco pressed.

"No!" Harry exclaimed. "It hurts, okay? I don't mind doing it if that's what you want, but I feel so much closer to you when I can be inside you. And you prefer it that way too."

"I like..." Draco said, then trailed off, blushing. He threaded his fingers through Harry's hair again. "I like looking up at you when you're inside me. I get lost in that, Harry, I don't think about anything except how much I love you and how good it feels. It doesn't hurt me because you're always so gentle.

"I want to show you that. I want for you to have it too."

"I don't know, Draco."

Draco leaned in and kissed him, capturing Harry's full bottom lip and sucking on it. "Give me tonight. I won't force you into anything but I think you'll like it."

"I trust you."

"I know. Take your clothes off."

As Harry stripped to nothing Draco reached for his bedside table and took out their usual tin of lubricant and a small pot of softly glowing liquid.

"What's that?"

Draco pulled his clothes off too. "It's something I made up."

"Yeah," Harry said, eyeing it suspiciously. "But what is it?"

"Shh," Draco told him. "Roll over."

Harry arranged himself lying on his front, his arms curled around a pillow held longways down his chest. Draco leaned over and pressed a kiss to the back of Harry's neck.

His hands skimmed up and down Harry's sides, lingering into covetous touches and gentle massage. After a few moments Harry felt Draco shift on the bed, then he was straddling Harry's hips and working the liquid into Harry's shoulders.

"Does it feel good?" Draco murmured.

Harry hummed in response.

As Draco's hands moved down his back, Harry noticed that something very strange was going on. Even though he knew, his rational brain told him so, that Draco's hands were kneading his lower back, he could still feel them on his shoulders.

"What the-" he started, but was broken off by Draco's gentle "Shh," and a chuckle.

"It's something I've been working on," Draco said in explanation.

Under Draco's strong, expert ministrations, Harry turned into a puddle of mush. He didn't protest when Draco pushed his legs up and apart, or when his hands started to knead his bum cheeks.

He did, however, nearly jump out of his skin when Draco's tongue licked from his balls to the base of his spine.

"Fuck!" Harry exclaimed.

"Harry, shut up," Draco said, teasing, but Harry knew he meant it.

With Draco's tongue lapping at his asshole, Harry suddenly woke the fuck up. The easy, lazy relaxation had been replaced with something vital and urgent, even as he still felt Draco's sure hands working the muscles in his shoulders.

Whatever this potion was, Draco could make a bloody fortune with it.

This thing... with his tongue... Harry decided he'd never quite felt something that pleasurable before in his life. It maybe even topped the first blowjob Draco had given him. Maybe. But still, he felt every nerve ending in his entire body curl, ready to spring, to blow at any time.

He whimpered at the loss of sensation as Draco flipped him over and started to gently tease the front of his body. When the tip of Draco's finger circled his nipple, Harry felt it over and over again, causing the flesh to peak and pucker in response.

Draco used some of the potion and a lot of their usual lube as he gentle caressed Harry's balls and the base of his shaft; Harry was aching and leaking and wanting everything at once. When Draco pressed one finger inside, then two, his other hand held tight on Harry's jaw, angling their kisses to distract Harry from the discomfort.

"Okay?" Draco asked.

"Yeah."

Harry spread his legs and put his hands on Draco's lower back, wanting to feel it from all angles this time. He wanted it... wanted the closeness that Draco had told him about.

As Draco pressed into him, Harry felt something curl and tighten in his chest.

"Does it hurt?" Draco murmured, so softly Harry almost didn't hear him.

He shook his head 'no', not trusting his voice to quite work yet.

The lasting impression of Draco's fingers on his jaw just made it all so much more intimate. Draco knew how far to hold himself from Harry's face so that Harry could see him, even without his glasses those grey eyes were in crystal sharp clarity.

Draco rolled his hips again, so slowly, but Harry still cried out and arched his back from the bed. Draco kissed him through the next thrust, and the one after, letting his body adjust in its own time.

"Oh, wow..." Harry breathed.

"Yeah," Draco said, saying the words against Harry's lips, loathed to break contact. "You look so beautiful. I love you. I love you."

Harry held on, curling his hands around Draco's shoulders as they moved together. They weren't chasing an orgasm, not yet, anyway. It was bigger than that, more than that.

The feeling of Draco's hands on him, everywhere, like a lingering memory but more real than that... it grounded Harry in a way he hadn't felt when they'd done this before. He was surrounded by the man he loved; over, under, inside. He knew now what Draco meant about being lost with someone. Nothing existed other than them. All that mattered was that they were together.

"Is there any potion left?" Harry said, pulling back from the kiss long enough to ask the question.

"A little bit."

"Let me use it on you."

Draco nodded and pushed back up onto his hands.

"Wait," Harry said. "Don't... don't pull out, okay?"

Draco swallowed. "Okay," he whispered.

The jar was Summoned rather than reached for and Draco poured the last of the contents into Harry's hands. While Draco adjusted his position again Harry ran his fingers up and down Draco's sides, causing the other man to shiver in response. As their hips found a rhythm again Harry attacked Draco's mouth with renewed enthusiasm, needing these kisses almost more than he needed Draco's body.

Harry stretched his arm down to rub a little bit of the potion where Draco's spine met his ass. He was extra- sensitive here, Harry knew, and sure enough Draco shivered again at the touch.

"I'm close," Draco gasped.

It wasn't until he said it that Harry realised he was too. When he let go it was of more than just his inhibitions. Rather than his orgasm coming in one hot, hard spike through his cock, it grew slowly and built, thrumming through his body over and over as Draco rode his prostate, keeping the intensity going.

Harry felt it, Draco's orgasm, and kissed his boyfriend through it until they were both breathless and Harry was trembling hard.

"Are you okay?" Draco asked.

He couldn't find the words to agree. Draco rolled onto his side and pulled Harry close; with his head on Draco's chest Harry could hear the still pounding rhythm of Draco's heartbeat and still... still the feeling of hands rubbing his shoulders reassuringly.

And like that, that they fell asleep.

Draco woke first the next morning, not that that was unusual.

Harry was curled up, facing away from him and, like he did every morning, Draco felt an overwhelming rush of love and sheer gratitude for whatever deity had brought them together. Very carefully, Draco wrapped his body around Harry's and held him while he slept.

And that was how Harry woke up nearly an hour later - being held in a loose but protective embrace.

"Mm. Morning," he said, his voice still scratchy from sleep. "Why are you still here?"

It was a fair question. Draco had usually gotten up and started his day by this time.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay. After last night, I mean," Draco said as Harry rolled over to face him.

"Oh," Harry said. He rubbed his eyes and smiled. "I'm okay."

"Are you sore? You have a couple of bruises."

Harry looked down at the thumbprint sized bruises on his hipbones. "Oh."

Reaching for his wand, Draco leaned back and tapped the little purple circles and murmured an incantation to make them melt away. Then he placed his hand flat on Harry's lower back.

A shock of static electricity jumped between them.

"Ow," Harry complained, laughing.

Draco leaned in to kiss him and it happened again. He pressed his lips together to ease the sting. "What the fuck?"

Harry reached out and touched the tip of his forefinger to Draco's nipple. Draco yelped. "I think," Harry said, amused, "That we may have discovered an unexpected side effect to your sex potion."

xXx

An hour later, after showers and getting Bear up and dressed and starting breakfast in the kitchen, they were still zapping each other with every touch. Hermione was supposed to be joining them for last minute preparations for their appeal with the Wizengamot... when she arrived she looked as sleek and professional as Harry had ever seen her.

"They've finally told me who will be governing your appeal." Hermione said. "It's Professor Basil Hall."

"That means nothing to me, Granger."

"He's conservative, old, and miserable."

"Fucking great."

"Exactly," she sighed.

Harry passed Draco a mug of tea and another zap of static jumped between them, eliciting a knowing glance and stifled giggle.

"What?" Hermione demanded. She noticed fucking everything.

"Nothing," Harry insisted.

"It's a sex thing, Granger," Draco said with the full intention of making her blush. It worked.

"Well, stop it," she said, flustered. "Go and put your robes on, we'll need to leave in a bit."

The courtroom, when they arrived, was packed. There were reporters all over the place, members of the public and Ministry officials who either wanted to watch the proceedings or actually had an interest in the outcome. Angelina had agreed to watch Bear for them; with George bringing Molly along later she said she'd have plenty of help if she needed it.

They made their way down to the sole table in the middle of the courtroom, facing the seats where the Wizengamot would soon file in, with the public viewing area behind them. Hermione seemed focussed, determined as she started to unpack her back and stacked an ungodly number of books and files on the desk.

"That's Professor Hall," she said in a low voice as the Wizengamot started to take their seats.

Hall was a short, squat, balding man who had tufts of white hair emanating from behind each ear but none on the top of his head. He wore thick glasses, giving his eyes an owlish look, and his vaguely bizarre appearance didn't fill Harry with hope. This was the man they had to convince that they were fit to be parents.

"Settle down, settle down," Professor Hall said, his voice clear and steady despite the number of people in the room and the chatter that filled it.

"Mr Malfoy... Mr Potter. Before we get underway I have to question your choice of representation. It is highly unusual for us to allow legal council to be provided by anyone other than an appointed legal professional, Miss Granger."

"I understand that," she said calmly. "However, I have extensive knowledge of this case and I believe, very strongly, in the arguments that I will be presenting to you. I have the full support of both Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy in representing them."

Professor Hall turned back to the assembled Wizengamot. "Does anyone have any protests against Miss Granger standing as legal council before we begin?"

He was met with silence. Professor Hall nodded and turned back to his paperwork, leaning close to the table to read the words on the page in a voice stunning in its monotony.

"Moving on. Presented to those assembled herein is the petition by Mr Harry James Potter and Mr Draco Malfoy for the legal adoption of the minor child Ted Remus Lupin. Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy were appointed the child's legal guardians by Madame O'Connell in June of last year and have remained so for all but the period of three weeks. In a separate petition filed by Miss Hermione Granger it is proposed that the so called 'ban' on same sex couples adopting children be overturned in light of recent social events and political change. You have in front of you a statement from the Minister of Magic advising of his recommended amendments to the current adoption law."

Professor Hall looked up from his paperwork and surveyed the rather packed courtroom.

"This will not turn into a media circus, ladies and gentlemen. Keep your thoughts to yourself unless you are called upon. We will deal with each case in turn; since all relevant parties are already here let us start with the formal petition for adoption. Miss Granger?"

Hermione stood, smoothed down the front of her shirt, picked up her notes and began to read. As Harry watched her he decided that out of all the breathtakingly amazing things that Hermione had done in the course of their friendship, this was possibly the most impressive. And heartfelt.

They had spent several frustrated evenings with piles of paperwork, digging out notes and case histories for her and now Harry heard some of his own words quoted back to him, making him smile with relief that all of their hard work hadn't been discarded by the boss. Next to him, Draco was taking deep breaths to calm himself. This, Harry knew, was a purely terrifying experience for Draco. The last time he had stood up in this courtroom was in his own defence for charges of War crimes.

Hermione wanted Harry to stand up and make the statement to the court, but it made more sense to him that Draco do it. Draco needed to prove, to himself as much as the world beyond the Ministry, that he was a good father. That he deserved this just as much as Harry did.

When he stood and faced the people who had wanted to imprison him only a year before, Harry thought he'd never be this proud of his partner ever again.

There were questions, of course, from the Wizengamot as soon as Draco finished.

"There has been considerable public interest in your desire to become parents," Professor Hall started.

"We are the first couple to ask for this," Draco said calmly, "So I think it's understandable that there is so much interest. I think, given the circumstances, we are better equipped possibly than any other same sex couple to be able to handle the media attention and public attention that the case will generate."

"And employing Rita Skeeter to fight your corner?"

"It's not against the law to give an interview, Mr Hall."

"How would you respond," he continued, brushing aside Draco's response, "To the claim that a child deserves to be raised by a mother and a father?"

Draco's eyes flicked to Harry, who stood. "May I answer that?" Harry asked. At Hall's nod, he continued. "Thank you. Bear doesn't have a mother and father, Mr Hall. They died. The only parents Bear has known since he was a few months old is Draco and I."

"For arguments' sake," Madame O'Connell said, smiling, "We could place him with an adoptive family where he could be placed with a mother and father."

"You could," Draco said, and Harry could hear the barely restrained frustration in his voice, "But you would be taking a child away from the only parents he has known, like Harry said. We have a secure, healthy, loving family here and the catalyst for us pursuing this adoption was the number of children at the Phoenix Orphanage who are already waiting for parents. It's frankly ridiculous and insulting to suggest moving him out of our care solely on the basis that we aren't a heterosexual couple."

Harry twitched his hand, brushing it against the back of Draco's in reassurance. Even now, the touch elicited another hot spark. "Bear's parents were friends of mine- Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks- Lupin. If you take Bear away from us you'll be taking him away from someone who knew his parents, who can tell him stories about them and make sure he knows his heritage, his family history. All these things are important. I, of all people, can tell you this with confidence."

There was a low level murmur of conversation that swept through the Wizengamot at this and Hermione smiled at him reassuringly. They were building a strong case.

To Harry, the wail of distress coming from the back of the room was immediately recognisable as Bear. A quick glance at Draco told him that his partner knew this too. When the scream turned into a high pitched cry for 'Daddy!', Harry addressed Madame O'Connell.

"Can I go to him, please?"

She looked to her colleagues and after receiving a few nods, she echoed her nod of approval.

Harry practically ran through the aisles, up the steps to get to the back where George was frantically trying to calm the crying baby.

"He woke up," George hissed.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah. I gathered that. Give him here."

Bear was handed over and Harry accepted a spare dummy from Angelina, cast a sterilising spell on it and hoisted Bear more securely on his shoulder. Almost immediately he started to calm down. He was painfully aware that every last person in the room was watching him as he headed back to their desk; Hermione looked a cross between bemused and exasperated and Draco seemed to be entertained by the whole mess.

Bear turned his hot cheek into Harry's neck and sniffled, his two fists creasing Harry's robes as he clung on tightly.

"Sorry," Harry said as he sat back down.

"Where are your socks?" Draco whispered to Bear. Bear pointed to his bare feet. "Yeah, socks," Draco said, leaning forward to kiss him on the head.

The court resumed around them, although Harry was paying less attention to it now. They had dressed Bear that morning in a long sleeved, light blue Tornado's t-shirt and jeans, not expecting that he'd be brought out in the public arena. The loss- of- socks issue was an ongoing battle with a toddler just learning to walk who loathed wearing shoes.

Harry gently rubbed Bear's back, rocking them both in his chair, watching as Bear's hair turned from black back to its regular sandy blond.

"Mr Potter," a voice interrupted his reverie.

"Yes?" he asked, searching for the source of the voice. An older witch caught his attention and he vaguely recognised her as one of the old- school, ultra- conservative group that Hermione had warned would be hard to convert.

"The child clearly has extraordinary skill," the witch said. She leaned forward, clasping her bony hands under her papery-skinned chin. "How do you plan to nurture this?"

"We have the support of his maternal grandmother, Andromeda Tonks, who has already showed us how to teach him how to control his skill, and he's starting to show signs of better control already. We're not pushing him at all. We're just letting him figure it out in his own time."

The witch sat back, apparently satisfied.

From the witnesses called by both the Ministry and Hermione, Ruth Finch nervously raised her hand.

"Yes?" the elderly witch asked.

"Nurse Finch, St Mungo's Hospital," she introduced herself. "I've been the child's assigned medical carer for the past fifteen months. Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy have kindly allowed me to research further Bear's Metamorphmagi abilities and conduct some non- invasive experiments with him. I am happy for the court to see any of the results of my research, all of which has shown that Bear is a happy, healthy, well adjusted child, especially considering his traumatic first few months in this world."

"Thank you, Nurse."

Ruth sat down, flushing slightly, and Harry smiled at her in thanks.

"Adoption, in the past, was only permitted to legally married couples, hence the ban by association on same sex couples adopting children." Tiberius Howsham, the wizard from their very first hearing, sat back in his chair as he spoke slowly. "Are you planning on marrying?"

Draco pressed his lips together to contain his laughter.

"Mr Howsham," Hermione said, "I'm sure you're aware that it is not possible under current wizarding law for Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy to marry. We aren't here today to debate that fact, although if the Wizengamot wishes to amend that law too, you will find no opposition from us. In fact, it may save us all time in a few years time when they may be ready to take that step."

The Wizengamot seemed to be split on this point; some smiled indulgently, others seemed appalled at the suggestion.

"This is not a petition to change the law on same sex marriage," Hall said, rising above the nervous, excited chatter that had started to hum through the room at Hermione's suggestion. "If and when that is the case, we will discuss it in the appropriate arena. Call your experts, Miss Granger. I daresay you have plenty."

"Yes, Professor Hall," Hermione said, smiling indulgently. "I do."

They sat and listened for hours as experts and witnesses were approached, questioned, prodded and cross- examined by members of the Wizengamot who had been doing their job for longer than Harry had been alive. Some of them, he supposed, had been doing the job for longer than all their ages combined.

Some were tedious, like the statistical expert on childcare that Hermione had dug up from somewhere or other and droned on with facts and figures like one of Professor Binns' more boring History of Magic classes. Others, like Lenore O'Connell, gave impassioned and convincing arguments as to why family situations such as theirs was beneficial for both parents and child.

Eventually, they seemed to wind things up.

"Does anyone have any further questions?" Professor Hall asked, looking around.

Me, Harry felt like saying, convinced, once again, that he hadn't done enough… there had to be something else he could say or do to convince them.

"Fine. Court dismissed. Miss Granger? You need to stay."

The courtroom erupted in activity and Hermione leaned in close to whisper in Harry's ear.

"We did really well. Don't worry. I'll come over as soon as I have any news."

"How long will that take?" Draco asked, relieving Harry of Bear's weight.

She shrugged apologetically. "At best, maybe late this afternoon. At worst a couple of days?"

"Oh, god," Draco groaned.

"Don't worry," she repeated as they started to get ushered from the room. "I'll speak to you as soon as I can."

They followed the rush of people, of reporters scribbling frantic notes or dictating to Quick Quotes Quills; family and friends and people offering their best wishes, of curious members of the public who could be supporters or opponents, there was no way of telling.

"Do you want to go for some lunch?" George asked as they finally caught up in the Atrium. "We could go to the Crup. Or the Leaky?"

"No, but thanks," Draco said. "The pubs will be packed and I don't know if I can stomach the attention."

George nodded. "Let us know when you hear, won't you?"

As the crowd finally started to thin Harry caught sight of a tall blonde woman standing by the fountain in the Atrium. With all of the people who had crowded the courtroom Harry hadn't noticed her before but now she made an imposing figure silhouetted against the re-commissioned fountain.

"Mrs Malfoy," Harry said.

"Mr Potter." She nodded in greeting. "Draco."

"Mother. I didn't see you in the courtroom."

Draco slipped his hand into Harry's as they crossed the nearly empty Atrium. A few people looked, but Harry didn't care. He was beyond that, for the time being.

Narcissa was wearing black again; a long, floor skimming dress with her robes fastened at her throat with a silver clasp. Her hair was loose around her shoulders and her wand was loosely gripped in her hand, as if she couldn't bear to be parted from it, even in the relative security of the Ministry.

"I wouldn't have missed it," she said, leaning in to kiss Draco on the cheek. "Well done, darling."

"Thank you."

"Would you like to come back to the house?" Harry asked. "We have some time, now."

Draco's mother pressed her lips together as if suppressing a smile. "No thank you. I have a lunch appointment. Another time, maybe." She turned to her son. "Must run, darling. So proud of you."

She pressed her lips to Bear's head, murmured something to him that Harry didn't catch, and with a practiced swirl of her wand, she Disapparated.

xXx

Hermione Apparated into the hallway to be polite, not entirely sure where Draco and Harry would be or what they would be doing. She clutched a large envelope to her chest protectively as she followed the noise coming from the kitchen. Bear was sat in his high chair throwing grapes from the shallow wooden tray; it appeared that Draco had been assigned the job of catching them with a freezing spell then sending them back towards Bear's mouth.

Both men had removed the outer layer of their robes and Harry had rolled the sleeves of his white shirt up to the elbows.

"Granger," Draco said, noticing her for the first time. "We weren't expecting you back so soon."

She waited until Harry had turned to face her too, then held out the envelope. "Congratulations, guys," she said. "It's a boy."

In the beat of silence that followed, Harry's mouth dropped open and Bear threw a grape at Draco's head.

"Are you serious?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. They signed off on the adoption a few minutes ago. They'll debate bringing it into law for another few days at least, but I can see it happening before the weekend. He's yours, guys."

Draco whooped with excitement and leapt up and into Harry's arms, swinging them both round in a circle that ended with a brief, hard kiss. Bear applauded their efforts.

When Harry turned back to thank the girl that had made it all happen for them there was a dampness on her cheek that could only have been caused by a few stray tears.

"Happy tears," she protested, laughing as Harry gathered her up in his arms.

"Thank you," he murmured into her hair. Draco had lifted Bear out of his high chair and offered Hermione his hand to shake, which she ignored and pulled him down into another hug.

"We couldn't have done it without you," he told her. "Well, we could have, but it would have taken us years."

Laughing, Hermione wiped her cheeks again. "I can't believe how quickly they came to a decision. It was like they had no arguments left. I don't know how long they'll take to debate the rest of the law out but…"

"Is this it?" Harry asked, taking the now slightly crumpled envelope from her hands.

"Yeah."

"Do we have to sign anything?"

Hermione nodded, spreading the papers out along the kitchen table. "If you do it now then I'll take it back to the Ministry. Kingsley has already signed it, so I just have to get it stamped and filed and then it's done."

Draco summoned a quill and ink from the drawer.

"Look," Hermione said, pointing to the space where they should sign. "It's only ever said 'Mother' and 'Father' before. You're the first people in history to ever have this form…"

Under the first space titled 'Father', Draco signed his name, then gave the quill to Harry, who passed Bear into Draco's arms then signed next to the second space for 'Father'. Next to the space for 'Witness', Hermione signed and printed her name.

"It's good," Draco said. "That your name is on here too. It's important that he knows that you made this happen."

Hermione nodded and blushed a little at his praise. "It was important to me, too."

She kissed Bear, offered her congratulations again as she stacked the papers and slipped them back into the envelope, then Disapparated.

"So," Harry said, pulling Draco back into his arms. "What do we do now?"

Draco smiled. "We get to drag him up for the next seventeen years. He's ours now. No going back."

"I don't think I want to."

"We could start planning the next one?"

Harry laughed at that. "Let's just deal with this one first, okay?"

Draco hummed into a kiss that lingered for a moment longer than it should. "Okay."


	30. The Tournament

_A/N: This is a funny little chapter; it's necessary to the plot development but forgive me for it not being more... concise. I will post the next one as soon as I'm physically able! I am still in Edinburgh, having a lovely time but unfortunately not giving enough attention to both my friends and my writing. I hope you enjoy this one. Who do you think the 'mystery' reporter is?_

* * *

_When the discussion of who could possibly report on the current Hogwarts Alumni/ Phoenix Orphanage Quidditch Tournament was raised at the office, my name was, I assure you, not top of the list. In fact, I didn't even make it on to the list. I do, however, have a few things going for me... I am, like many of you, a lifelong Quidditch supporter. In my prime I too played for my house team, as did my children. And I have a deep and meaningful connection to the Phoenix Orphanage. No, at this time, I'm not quite ready to reveal my identity. But I do hope you enjoy my rather... unique viewpoint on the coming matches._

_A.W.W._

_xXx_

Gryffindor vs. Slytherin

Well, yesterday's game was pretty much what everyone expected; a thrilling, controversial, fun and foul- ridden match between the two great house rivalries. Pitching Potter against Krum was surely something those with a keen eye for international Quidditch were watching closely and, to be fair to the young Tornadoes signing, he held his own.

With the unusual tournament structure meaning points were the name of the game, rather than number of games won, it was perhaps inevitable that this match lasted for a full 93 minutes before Potter completed a sprint from one end of the pitch to the other to snatch the snitch from under the nose of the Slytherin Keeper.

The Chasing teams on both sides were exceptionally strong and the Gryffindor/ Puddlemere Keeper Wood was on the best form of his career. Rather than a sentimental choice, as many first assumed of Potter, the appointment of Wood to the team now seems a clever tactical move.

The strong lead the Team Gryffindor have amassed early in the game is the gauntlet thrown, challenge issued to the three teams still to play, lets see how well Team Hufflepuff fare against Team Ravenclaw tomorrow in Pembrokeshire.

_The final score: Gryffindor 420 to Slytherin 300_

Slytherin vs. Weasley

It was impossible to anticipate what sort of support Team Weasley would have amassed by the time their first game, versus Team Slytherin, occurred on a bright and breezy Brighton Saturday afternoon. What no one expected was for their support to come in the form of players, sponsors and supporters of every other team in the tournament (except their immediate opponents) to come out to support them.

The faithful support of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes customers was clear as a sea of orange and purple stripes met green, players on both teams wearing black armbands in respect to the fallen Weasley brother, Fred, after whom the team is officially named. Commentating this match was one of Fred's school friends, Lee Jordan, whose wife Jenny is playing for Team Ravenclaw. To the delight of the crowd, Jordan introduced the team as "Weasley, Weasley, Weasley, Weasley, Delacour- Weasley, Weasley aaaaaaaand… Weasley!"

The Slytherins were on top form, clearly out to prove their worth after their loss to Team Gryffindor last week. (Incidentally, Potter watched the match not sporting green to support his partner, but orange and purple. Make of that what you will.) The Slytherins racked up an early lead with an eighty point lead before George rallied his team together and the tour de force which was Ginny and Fleur sinking no less than nine goals in thirteen minutes.

The weak link on Team Weasley was by far Percy, the manager of Phoenix Orphanage who frankly looked like he couldn't tell one end of the broom from the other, dropped more than he caught and generally showed no understanding of even the concept of the game.

Nevertheless, Team Slytherin deserved their victory, coming in at only forty points ahead of their opponents.

But make no mistake, it is too early to discount Team Weasley from the competition.

_Final score: Slytherin 360 to Weasley 320_

Ravenclaw vs. Hufflepuff

As seems to be too regularly the case in this country, the unseasonably warm weather yesterday threw the teams more than driving rain and sleet would have. The crowds, at least, enjoyed the picnic atmosphere during a match which was slow to get underway.

Unfortunately for both Chang and Smith, their team choices were overshadowed by the appointments of Potter and Malfoy although when they were in the air, it is not unfair to say that they made equal (if not slightly better) choices than their former schoolmates.

The strength of Chang's Team Ravenclaw lay in her defence; perhaps she (correctly) anticipated that her rivals had placed their power in their Chasers and Seekers. Without a doubt the stars of the match were the Beating team of King and Halethorpe although in the end, the textbook Ravenclaw team fell to the skill of the Hufflepuffs.

Smith's team were the first to be announced and from what this commentator has seen so far, they appear to be by far the most well practiced. They pulled off a series of set moves hitherto unseen in the competition and put away goals with ease.

With no little shock, so far, Team Hufflepuff is the one team to watch.

_The final score: Hufflepuff 330 to Ravenclaw 140_

Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff

After such an impressive display last weekend against Team Ravenclaw, it was Team Hufflepuff's chance to show Team Gryffindor exactly what they were made of.

That chance, really, was blown up like a house of exploding snap cards.

Team Hufflepuff were well and truly _thrashed_ by Team Gryffindor.

Even from the off, for some reason (intimidation, perhaps, which Team Gryffindor are throwing out in abundance) Team Hufflepuff looked slow and sluggish compared to their slick performance last week. Johnson and Spinnet, playing even better than last week with William Parker proved to be an inspired team as they worked together to make some spectacular goals.

With Hufflepuff trailing behind and making some feeble attempts (the Quaffle only passed Wood five times in the entire match), Potter looked set to put Smith and his teammates out of their misery after only half an hour of play.

Team Gryffindor storm ahead with a second win behind them.

_Final score: Gryffindor 350 to Hufflepuff 50_

Gryffindor vs. Weasley

It wasn't the first time Harry Potter had played against his opponents on Team Weasley, but this time it mattered. His best friend, ex- girlfriend, the manager of the charity the tournament is supporting… and four others he considers family. It couldn't have been easy, however few in the crowd missed the playful tongues stuck out at the Weasley's backs as Team Gryffindor took to the sky.

For the first half of the game, one would be forgiven for thinking that this was a simple Sunday morning game in the park for the two teams, with George Weasley refusing to unseat his fiancée, Team Gryffindor Chaser Angelina Johnson, even when she was headed straight for goal (which she dutifully scored).

The change in the tone of the match came after forty minutes when Team Weasley Chaser Percy was injured by a Bludger to the back of the head, something Team Weasley vehemently deny was a pre- arranged sabotage (Percy's performance on the pitch has not improved since his first match. In fact, if anything, it got worse.) With their third Chaser receiving medical attention it looked for a moment like Team Weasley would be forced to continue on with six men, until the crowds parted to allow another Weasley family member to enter the field.

Weasley matriarch, Molly, played Chaser for Gryffindor house in her own schooldays, although she herself will be the first to admit that this was twenty five years ago. Totally unrehearsed, unprepared and unidentified as a substitute (seemingly even to members of her own team), Molly was given a set of spare robes and Percy's discarded broom, a two minute tactical talk from her son, then joined the rest of the team.

I wish, more than I wish for a self- stirring cauldron, that her contribution to the game was influential in their success. But, alas, it was too little, too late. Even though Mrs Weasley put away a respectable three goals in the following forty five minutes of play, Team Gryffindor were tighter, faster and slicker, and scooped the snitch to finish on 470 points, earning their place in the final.

Final score: _Gryffindor 470 to Weasley 390_

xXx

_So, with every team now playing each other, it's time to review the leaderboard and announce a result that we were all expecting, if we're honest with ourselves. There's barely a hair's breadth between the two leaders and Team Weasley are only a handful of points behind, making it difficult to try and determine a clear winner from the bunch. Despite a promising start, Team Hufflepuff let themselves down after a disappointing defeat to Team Gryffindor, and Team Ravenclaw, who finished only 100 points behind Team Weasley, should be pleased with their performance. _

_It has been announced this morning (again from Miss Granger, who is fast becoming this reporter's favourite person associated with the tournament), that thus far, from the ten initial games, the total amount raised has topped over ten thousand galleons. The decision has now been made to split these funds and any more raised during the tournament, between the Phoenix Orphanage another children's charity and a war hero's fund, details of which will follow later. _

_With the final round of the tournament looming we look to next weekend's matches. _

_The first game to be played on Friday evening will pitch Team Slytherin versus Team Gryffindor. On Saturday lunchtime Team Slytherin will play Team Weasley. On Sunday morning Team Weasley will play Team Gryffindor, at which point the team with the lowest number of points will be dropped from the competition. Then, on Sunday night, the two teams with the highest points will play each other for the title. _

_Tickets for the match on Sunday evening are already sold out and it is rumoured that Hogwarts are already looking at how to expand their viewing platforms to give more people the chance to see the game. _

_The three teams left in the competition are very different, and as such, it is difficult to try and compare them against each other. Team Slytherin have the technical ability, Team Gryffindor the close- knit teamwork and Team Weasley the underdog spirit, each quality good enough to warrant them a place in the final. With this in mind, it's near on impossible for a winner to be picked from the bunch._

_(Although I'm rooting for Team Weasley.)_


	31. Flight of the Dementors

_A/N: Of course it was Arthur! Who else could it possibly have been? (A.W.W. stands for Arthur William Weasley. I'm clearly not as clever as I think I am!)  
More from me at the end. Posting this chapter is going to break my heart. _

* * *

Chapter 30 - Flight of the Dementors

It had been a topic hotly debated in the press in the weeks following Bear's official adoption. While the rationalists among their community agreed that it was a positive move, there were still those who clung to an outdated moral code and objected to the adoption of children by same sex couples.

They could object all they liked – it had taken a few more days, but the Wizengamot had signed into law an amendment to the Protection of Children Act that allowed both same sex couples and single parents to adopt children through official sources. Percy, despite his initial scepticism, was delighted. There had been three more applications from prospective parents since the law had been passed. It would take time, and there would surely always be children needing the care that the Phoenix provided. But it was a start. A good start.

Now, as one of her first official duties, Hermione had been put in charge of an operation to destroy the few Dementors that remained in the country. The rounding up of the former Azkaban guards had been going on by the department for the regulation and control of magical creatures since the end of the war; some had disappeared, others had decided to flee overseas. Those that remained had been captured and contained in an underground bunker on Dartmoor.

"It's already a pretty misty and isolated place," Hermione explained. "It's easy to keep the Muggles away and easy to maintain."

There was no way of ridding the world of Dementors forever. Indeed, a mass cull of this size had never been attempted, or even warranted before. But when the battle lines had been drawn the Dementors had betrayed the Ministry and it was simply too dangerous to allow them to exist.

"How do you kill a Dementor?" Harry asked.

They had gathered, a small group of them, in the living room at Grimmauld Place; Harry and Draco, George and Angelina, Hermione and Ron – who was back to act as a witness for Lady Yaxley's trial, and Neville, who protested that he didn't mind being included in the group of couples.

"Same way you fight one," she said, shrugging. "Patronuses."

"Stop acting like we should know what you're talking about and explain yourself, Granger," Draco said.

George snorted with laughter and tried to hide it with a coughing fit.

"If you have enough positive energy, for example, Patronuses, it will eventually undo the negative energy," she said. "We're trying to round up everyone in the country who we know can cast one. You should have a letter in a couple of days if you haven't had one already."

"I can cast a Patronus," Draco said.

"Yes, Draco, I know," Hermione said, smirking.

"Well, am I getting a letter?"

"Why don't you wait and see?"

He threw a peanut at her.

xXx

Two men had become fathers, but there was still the very important, not-at-all childish matter of a Quidditch tournament to resolve. With Team Gryffindor set to play Team Slytherin in the final, the hype had been whipped up to epic proportions and Harry could honestly say he was excited and dreading it in equal measures.

He'd checked with Draco if he could sub his team and steal some of Team Weasley (the answer was a resounding no), meaning the rest of the team had been training hard to get into the best shape of their admittedly short career. Press speculation about their relationship and their rivalry got ridiculous, Rita got her own back for Harry's sulk in her office by suggesting that Draco was interested in another member of Team Slytherin and Harry got her back in return by giving an exclusive interview on the adoption to the Quibbler.

Within the sanctuary of Grimmauld Place their world whittled down to one baby who was growing up faster than either of them liked to admit. It seemed that 'Daddy' had now entered Bear's vocabulary, a title he was likely to bestow on nearly anyone who picked him up. Harry didn't mind. It was a thrill he never got bored of, lifting his son into his arms, holding him close, and hearing the word _Daddy_ directed at him.

Having George and Angelina so close by was an unexpected help. They were another family going through the adoption process, adapting their lives and their relationship to revolve around a child. Titan wasn't an easy baby; he came with his own set of needs and problems, both psychological and physical. While the Aurors hadn't been able to find out from Lady Yaxley exactly what she'd been doing with the children, the gentle, nurturing care from his new parents meant that Titan was slowly starting to come out of his shell.

Harry woke up on the morning of the Quidditch final to find out that Draco had turned his underwear green in the night. And his t-shirt now sported the Slytherin crest. Ohh… he was going to pay for that.

He didn't see his boyfriend until they walked out onto the pitch at Hogwarts to screams and noise that he was sure never happened in his schooldays. The crowd were split into three distinctive sections; red, green, and orange and purple stripes. It seemed that although Team Weasley had been knocked out of the competition their fans were loyal enough to stay with them through to the end.

It was humbling to walk into the middle of the pitch, Lee Johnson calling out their names, to meet Madam Hooch. As his team got into position behind him, Harry steeled his gaze as he gripped Draco's hand in a bone- crushing handshake, mounted his broom and on the whistle, took off for the sky.

Although his career as a Seeker had officially yet to start, Harry felt the pressure of performing for a crowd who knew exactly what they expected of him. There would surely be Tornado's fans in the crowd, wanting to see what next season's biggest signing could actually do.

Anything that came before this was irrelevant.

This was Quidditch at its best… and its worst.

Harry had thought previous games were fast but this… he could barely keep track of the score, the fouls, the injuries as his players belted from one end of the pitch to the other. He only remembered after ten minutes of play that he was supposed to be looking for a snitch. Krum was circling low, letting the play happen above his head. Harry was right in the middle of the action, directing play, shouting encouragement, accepting the abuse.

"Hey, Potter!"

He looked up with a frown on his face, then his stomach lurched as he caught sight of a familiar blond head, green robes framed by the Hogwarts castle behind him.

"Potter!" Draco called again. "I heard you like boys now."

Stifling a smile, Harry called back "Malfoy. Watch out behind you."

Angelina threw the Quaffle to Katie in the gap between them causing Draco to miss what would certainly have been an easy interception... if he'd been paying attention.

"Will you two stop flirting and start playing?" she yelled.

Harry stuck his tongue in his cheek and dropped into a dizzying swoop.

After forty more minutes of play, Harry was starting to panic. Against all his strategising and planning and training, the Slytherins were pulling ahead. And staying there. They were 200 points behind, then twenty, then 220, then only fifty…

Harry made the decision that he'd wait until they had the barest hint of a lead, then go for the snitch. He hated… hated to admit it but Draco's Chasers were clearly a stronger unit than his, and the way it was going he'd be in for a humiliating defeat unless he secured the win for the team.

When the precious score margin arrived Harry started to race from one side of the pitch, scanning for the tiny golden ball. He heard more cheers from the crowd, one team pulling ahead with a goal then the other pulling back. Then it was right there. He was only a hundred yards away from the snitch…

Harry glanced at the score, they had a ten point margin… he threw himself into the chase and his audience whipped up behind him and there was a roar from both sides of the crowd and that was wrong, wasn't it? But he'd caught it, and his breath was burning his lungs as he held it up but his players' faces were confused…

He chanced a look at the scoreboard and felt the same rush of discomfort: Gryffindor 600 vs Slytherin 600…

It couldn't be…

"And Harry Potter catches the snitch just seconds after Draco Malfoy puts away a goal!" Lee Jordan screamed. "That narrow lead that Potter was looking for was closed and he had no way of knowing... it's a draw, ladies and gentlemen, I've never seen this before in all my years of commentating, it's a draw and now it's up to Potter and Malfoy as to what they want to do next…"

Harry couldn't help it. He laughed.

He laughed until the breath wouldn't force itself into his lungs any more and dropped back down to solid ground. Both teams were also descending around them, some looking amused, some, like Krum, annoyed.

"We can call a penalty shoot out," Madam Hooch said as she walked over to him, Draco following her. "It's an unusual situation, gentlemen. Especially in a tournament final game. Normally the points would just roll over, but this isn't an official competition. It's up to you."

"Does it matter?" Draco asked.

A part of him, the deeply competitive part, wanted to say of course it mattered. There had to be a winner. But there was another part, and he thought it was probably the part that hummed whenever Draco kissed him, that said it didn't matter at all.

"No," he said simply. "Let's just leave it."

Draco nodded, smiling in a way that made him just indescribably beautiful and Harry didn't care that they didn't do this in public, or that there were literally hundreds of people watching, or that there were photographers only a few metres away. He grabbed Draco's wrist and yanked him hard, tumbling into the kiss like the schoolchildren they had been pretending to be, kissing hard like the men they were.

Once again the crow erupted with screams; this time they were joined by catcalls and whistles and laughter.

"Come on," Draco said. "Let's share the glory."

xXx

All teams were gathered back to the pitch in their team colours for official photographs of the tournament. The trophy, a huge, silver cup, was engraved with both Gryffindor and Slytherin as winners and would stand in the Quiet Room at the Phoenix Orphanage where anyone could go and see it. For a small fee, of course.

Harry was also able to present a cheque to Percy for an insane donation to the upkeep of the Orphanage. They had decided, due to the success of the tournament, that there were a few other good causes that they were going to donate to. The fund at Hogwarts for children who needed assistance with books and equipment got a generous scoop. As did the children's ward at St Mungo's.

"I'm all charitied out," Draco groaned as the grabbed two minutes alone in the back of the stands. Most of the crowds had cleared out now, only a few of the players and their families, and Hogwarts staff remained.

"You miserable sod," Harry said. Still, he combed his fingers through Draco's hair a few times as Draco dropped his head to Harry's shoulder.

"Can we just go to the pub now?"

"Yeah. Let's find Bear and go."

It was easy enough to track down the Weasleys, there was enough of them, after all.

"The Three Broomsticks is packed," Ron said, "We just went down to have a look."

"The Leaky?" George suggested.

Arthur shrugged. "The Crup?"

There was a collective groan from his children, his 'adopted' children and their partners.

"How about that little pub in the village?" Hermione said. "In Catchpole, I mean."

"You don't mean The Steel Monkey, do you?" Bill said, causing Fleur to groan from under his arm. "Fleur reckons she got food poisoning there."

"It's has a beer garden," George said. "We can sit outside. And these two won't get any hassle…"

Draco shrugged. "Don't mind us."

So that was how they ended up, the big, overflowing group of family with a table full of pints of ale, no white wine spritzers allowed for either Fleur or Draco.

"Don't be such a bloody poof," Charlie said, whacking Draco on the back. "Get that down your neck. Man up."

Draco grimaced as he took the first sip, frowned at the second, then drained half the glass in the third.

"Good boy," Charlie told him.

The sun was starting to set over the hill, casting the valley in a warm pink glow and long, long shadows. There were enough of the other village children playing around them that Bear, and even Titan felt at ease enough to make friends and with plenty of eyes watching them Harry didn't mind letting him run off for once. They couldn't do this in London.

"What's next then?" Molly asked Draco. "Now you've got your NEWTs out of the way."

"BATs," Draco said with a smile and a toast.

"He's going to live in that basement until he turns into a vampire," Harry said. "He only comes up for food as it is."

"Shut up," Draco told him pleasantly.

"And after that?" Molly asked.

"It'll take a few years to get the BAT certificate," Draco said. "Then I can start applying to work for hospitals, or maybe in an apothecary."

"Well," Percy said, standing, "This seems to be a good time to announce that the Phoenix is expanding. From the generous donation of the tournament," (the group cheered at this), "We will, from September, start offering childcare facilities."

Another round of applause greeted his announcement.

"Sign us up," Angelina said. "It'll be good for Titan to interact with children his own age."

"On the theme of big proclamations," George said, pulling Angelina to her feet with him. "It is high time I tell you all that this fine lady, although being far too good for me, has agreed to be my wife."

Angelina smiled up at him then leaned in to kiss the underside of his jaw. Molly started to cry.

"Oh, Georgie!" she exclaimed.

"More drinks!" Charlie cried.

By the time Harry and Draco arrived back home night had well and truly fallen. Bear was asleep, his head on Draco's shoulder and Harry kissed them both before Draco took him up for bed. With two mugs of tea made, Harry went back to the living room to wait.

"Did he go down okay?" he asked as Draco dragged himself through to the sofa.

"Out like a light. Ugh," he complained as he collapsed into his chair. "I ache everywhere."

"Me too."

"We should have done a bloody penalty shoot out."

Harry snorted with laughter. "Don't worry, darling. I'll beat you next year."

"Watch it, Potter."

"Mm. I love it when you use my last name."

Draco looked over, his eyes sparkling. "I still have my house tie in the wardrobe."

"And a white shirt? And a sexy- as- fuck grey sweater-vest?"

Draco charmed the sofa and dragged it towards his chair with Harry on it. "I have a feeling," he said, "That you're making fun of me."

"Me?" Harry said, the picture of innocence. "Never."

"Do you still have your house tie?"

"Of course." Harry murmured the words against Draco's lips, now that he was close enough to lean over and kiss him.

"Then for fuck's sake, Potter, go and put it on."

xXx

They gathered in a little town on the edge of Dartmoor, finding the direction on Hermione's letter that lead them to a small café where they could wait for their turn to Apparate to the spot where the Dementors were being kept. '_Drink hot chocolate_', Hermione's letter had said, and the lady behind the counter gave them an odd look as Harry ordered two mugs and two thick chocolate brownies.

"You're not the first to ask for that today," she said, stirring hot milk in their mugs. "I'm going to run out at this rate."

Even at this distance they could feel the distinct coolness, the heaviness of dark emotions starting to weigh them down.

Bear and Titan were staying at the Phoenix for a few hours; now that the orphanage had the funds to hire more full time staff members it was easier to drop the children off for a few hours.

There were about sixty of them altogether, those who had responded to Hermione's plea for help. On the outskirts were reporters there to record the scene, one of the biggest political statements that had been made in a long time. It was newsworthy. And history- making.

After being taken aside in groups and given instructions and training, they were each asked to cast their Patronus to make sure it was strong enough for the task. One by one they gathered in a wide, loose circle around a pit that had been sunken into the ground, the thick steel bars containing the Dementors within.

"They're corporeal," Hermione explained. "They're not ghosts, they can't go through solid objects."

"How many?" Draco asked.

She shrugged. "About forty at last count. This isn't an experiment, Draco, we're sure it's going to work."

He nodded. Harry took his hand anyway.

At Hermione's signal the bars containing the Dementors melted away and the first pale, scabbed hand came up over the grassy verge.

"_Expecto patronum_," Hermione whispered from his right, sending her Patronus first towards the pit.

Her otter circled the area, protecting them all as in one group the Dementors rushed up and out, scrambling over each other in their bid for freedom.

"Now!" she cried and suddenly the moor was bight with silver light, the air thick and heavy with the rush of power surging forward.

Harry sent Prongs into the fray and glanced at Draco. He was frowning deeply and his wand arm trembled almost imperceptibly. Harry leaned over and gently laid his lips on Draco's cheek.

"_Expecto patronum_," Draco said and suddenly his magpie broke free and soared in to where the others were already doing their job.

It was an incredible sight.

Harry could just about make out each individual Patronus but they were working together without any direction from the witch or wizard casting it, seemingly self- organising to work against the overwhelming force of darkness.

"They know what to do," Harry said, entranced.

"Yeah," Hermione agreed.

Around the circle people edged closer to loved ones to keep their happy thoughts strong. Harry smiled as Luna slipped her hand in Neville's. He looked down at her with no small measure of shock, then slowly, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He leaned down (and when did Neville get so tall?) and kissed her temple.

Harry wasn't sure exactly how the Patronuses were supposed to kill the Dementors, at first all it seemed like they were doing was surrounding the dark, hooded figures. But slowly they seemed to be moving in ever decreasing circles, pressing inwards and exerting ever more pressure on those contained.

Then finally, with an unearthly scream, something in the middle exploded.

Luna's rabbit hopped gleefully through the dust as more and more of the Dementors disintegrated, the black smoke quickly fizzling out to nothing, brushed aside by the more lively Patronuses.

"Fuck me," Draco muttered and Harry laughed, he couldn't help it.

Prongs stuck his head out of the fray as if to look for the source of the laughter, then charged back in again. As the Dementors were destroyed, one by one, the circle of people seemed to close in until he could almost reach out and touch Hermione.

When there were no dark shapes left, only the glimmering presence of hope, the Patronuses scattered. Luna cheerfully waved as hers disappeared over a hill, others, like Molly, dropped their head in relief. Draco squeezed Harry's hand and smiled as he sheathed his wand, then turned as something caught his eye.

Although all of the other Patronuses had gone, only two returned to their owners. Harry had a strange sort of relationship with Prongs; it was the presence of his father, for certain, but also his connection to Lupin, who taught him the spell, and to Sirius, who only survived because of Harry's skill at casting it.

As the large stag cantered back Harry noticed another Patronus riding with him.

There was no doubt that it was Draco's magpie, perched on Prongs' antlers and preening himself happily.

"Well done," Harry murmured as Prongs dropped his head and pawed at the ground. The magpie stretched his wings and took flight... just then, the sun - which had been resolutely hiding behind a thick layer of cloud - broke free, and in the streaks of sunlight both Prongs and the magpie faded to nothing.

_The End._

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_A/N: __There are thank- you's, of course, to every person who gave this story a chance. Firstly, to those who followed me here from Twilight FanFiction and trusted me enough with Harry and Draco to tell their story as I wanted to tell it. And, in no way less, also to the HP fans who may never have seen my work before but still let me take out Harry and Draco and play with them. I feel these boys, they speak to me in a way that I don't think I've ever had characters speak to me before. _

_This is not the first time I've been to Edinburgh. I've worked at the Fringe for four years now, in the same venue on George IV Bridge every time. I've sat, more times than I care to count, in a little cafe and felt a little tingle at the base of my spine. Right here, in this very spot, was where Jo Rowling penned Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. There is magic here, looking up at Edinburgh castle and seeing Hogwarts and knowing... This is where it all began._

_It's fitting that right here is where I'll end it. _


	32. Epilogue:  13 Years Later

_A/N: The only thing that is worth mentioning at this point is the date. The main body of Et Dona Ferentes was set in 1997- 1998. This epilogue is set thirteen years later, not nineteen, so in terms of the story, it's all happening... right now._

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Epilogue - 13 Years Later

Stella sat on her Dad's hip, thumb lodged firmly in her mouth and frowning.

"But I want to go with Bear," she moaned around her thumb, blinking her big blue eyes. "And James," she added as an afterthought. Draco squeezed her in reassurance but Bear cut in before he had chance to say anything.

"You've got a couple of years left at school yet, squirt," Bear said. He tickled her ribs to make her squirm, kissed her cheek and turned his hair green to make her laugh. Which she did. "Don't worry. Hogwarts isn't going anywhere."

The swirls of steam and cacophony of noise at King's Cross had been a familiar sight for the past four Septembers when they'd loaded their eldest son onto the Hogwarts Express. Stella had practically grown up with the journey across London. This year was James' turn, leaving the youngest of the Malfoy- Potter clan to spend the next, torturous, seventeen weeks 'til Christmas on her own.

They attracted a fair amount of attention wherever they went, Harry being an international Quidditch star and all, but especially here, among those who knew the family. Draco lifted his hand in a wave for Ginny Thomas; both her and Dean's children were too young for Hogwarts yet but this time of year seemed to bring everyone out for moral support. Pansy and Blaise had already loaded Cynthia on to the train and Blaise was desperately trying to reign in their two youngest... The twins were a handful (Draco knew this from first hand experience) and he turned his face into Stella's hair to hide his smirk.

From behind them another family burst through the entrance to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters; they were a funny hodge-podge of skin and hair colour, freckles, eyes, heights... but a family, nonetheless.

"Alright, George?" Draco said and George rolled his eyes and shouted at his sons.

"Trunks, now, or you'll miss it!"

"Fine, Dad, chill," Titan said, rolling his eyes right back.

"Yeah. We've got ages," Apollo added. The second of Angelina and George's sons was as tall as his father and blond, with unusually dark eyes. His owl, a light feathered bird, was perched on his shoulder and hooted indignantly as Titan helped his brother load their cases.

"Victoire is down in on of the end carriages," Apollo said.

"Shut _up,_" Titan hissed.

"Don't start," Angelina sighed, resting her head on George's shoulder.

From the train, the man Draco was waiting for suddenly appeared in the doorway. His eyes scanned the crowd and lit up when they landed on his partner and daughter.

"Thanks for helping," Harry said to Draco as he hopped down from the train, rolling his shoulders after hauling James's trunk into the carriage.

"Stella," Draco said in way of apology, bouncing their little girl and smiling mischievously. "Where's James?"

"With Hugo," Harry said in the same tone, his own explanation.

Ron followed Harry down from the carriage, rolling his eyes as Hermione dished out a long list of rules. She paused to smile at Stella, then continued. A slightly bedraggled looking Hugo followed her and James brought up the rear. Stella wriggled out of Draco's grasp and ran off down the platform, likely having spotted someone she just had to talk to, while Rose handed her dad a ribbon to reattach to the end of her long braid. The tip of Ron's tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he tied a neat bow.

"Shouldn't we have a list of rules?" Harry whispered. Hermione was still going strong with her instructions. But Hugo was her eldest and the first to leave his mother - who was suitably distressed at the notion. In true Hermione fashion, her emotions were expressed with a desire for order and reassurance that bordered on obsessive. Some things never changed.

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. Bear is doing alright, isn't he? We didn't give him any rules."

"Bear!" Harry shouted over to where their eldest son was standing with a group of his school friends. "Watch out for your brother, okay?"

"Yes Dad," Bear said, smirking slightly.

"There," Harry said, pleased with himself. "Done."

Laughing, Draco let his hand slip into Harry's. "You're doing a wonderful job."

"Of what?"

"Being a father."

"Pssh," Harry said. "I knew that already."

The years had been kind to them both, allowing them to expand on their small family while both were still in their early twenties. James, born to an old friend when Bear was four, was so clearly Harry's son it wasn't worth claiming him to be anything but. Although Bear had a sense of adventure and mischief that came partly from his Marauders heritage and partly from his fathers, it was surely James (so Draco claimed) that they would be receiving the owls from school about. With four years seeming to be a good age gap for their children, and with both parents still in their twenties (thank you very much), the longed- for daughter finally completed the family. Stella Luna was bright and shy, excitable and introverted, a paradox of a little girl.

"Daddy!" Stella exclaimed as she rushed over.

"Where have you been?" Harry demanded.

"Talking to Luna," she said, slightly breathless. "She said she would come over and we can go out and pick some dir- some diri- … dirigi-"

"Dirigible Plums?" Draco offered.

"Yes!" Stella said. "Can Rose come too?"

"You'll have to ask Rose's mummy," Draco said, hauling her back up into his arms. "Oof. You're getting heavy."

"Too heavy for cuddles?"

"Never," Draco promised.

Along the platform, train doors started to slam shut. Children hung out of windows and open doors, waving at parents and siblings left behind.

"And just be good!" Hermione wailed as Hugo hopped up onto the train. Ron gently pried Rose from Hermione's grasp and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, rescuing his daughter from Hermione's death- like grip.

"You too, James," Harry said.

James wrapped his arms around Harry's waist in a bone- crushing hug. Harry ran his hands gently through James' hair, the same dark crop that James had inherited from his father... and his grandfather.

"I will," James said. "Um, Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"I sort of need to go."

Draco snorted with laughter. "Bye, James. Be good. Write. And don't listen to anything your brother tells you. He's a Gryffindor. He can't be trusted."

James laughed, delighted, as he ran for the train.

"Bye, Dad!" Bear yelled as he slammed the train door shut behind his brother. "Bye Stella!"

"Bye bye," Stella whispered, then turned her face into Draco's neck, convinced she was too old to cry.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," Draco said softly, running his hand over blonde curls barely contained in a pink hair band. "I'm going to miss them too."

The red train whistled and the sound of the engines were too loud, then it rounded a corner and disappeared out of sight.

"Right," Ron said brightly as they headed back to the main part of the station. "Who wants to go for some lunch?"

Both Stella and Rose escaped from their fathers and held hands as they rushed ahead, leaving the four grown ups to follow. Hermione gave Ron a watery smile; he gently pulled her close and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Looking down, Draco realised that his hand was in Harry's, completely without him meaning to put it there. In the brisk Autumn air Draco had rolled his sleeves up to his elbows; Harry slid his hand up Draco's forearm, over scarred, marked skin, then back down to link their fingers again. Draco looked to his partner and raised his eyebrow, as if to ask if everything was alright. Harry nodded, smiling, and Draco leaned in to brush his lips just barely over Harry's scar before they burst into the bright sunlight outside the station.

All was well.

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_A/N: Disclaimers always amuse me. Yeah, I know you don't own it. If you were JKR you definitely would not be writing the shit I read. However, with a plagiarism case surely hanging over my head right now, it's worth mentioning that I do not own the Harry Potter series, and although my name is Joanne my last name is not Rowling and I'm really not making any money out of this._

_Epilogue? THIS Epilogue. (Ahem.)_

_To Kira and Ines - thank you for your time, your criticism and your unwavering support. To greeneyedgirly - I'll hold onto that last bit of hope that maybe, someday, you might read this (I'm a sucker, I know.)_

_To those who have been reading my stories since summer 2009, you are the reason I do this. Whether I know you by name, by username or by a statistic point in my Traffic bar chart, thank you._

_Since I'm the boss around here I'm going to pimp out my other story... Unbroken is a Charlie Weasley/ Harry story which has been receiving some awesome feedback. If you fancy giving something new a try, go and check it out. __I'd love to know what you think._

_In response to the requests for more, or a sequel; drabbles aside, I have never written the same pairing in a story more than once. I'll make no promises to write more Drarry fic, then if I do, it'll be a pleasant surprise for us all. I'll say now though, I never could have dreamed that this exploration of "Harry Potter, Book 8" would have been so wonderful. Thank you all again! And maybe I'll see you on the next one._


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